


Sparks

by Bright_Elen



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Ableist Language, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Cassian Andor-centric, Evil Corporations, I mean it's kinda more of a near-futuristic setting, Imperialism, M/M, OS to friends to lovers, Online Dating, POV Cassian Andor, Slow Burn, Sociopolitics, but it looks more or less like our world, i mean aren't they all, mentions of state violence, mostly - Freeform, the attempt happens off-screen, us/mexico border politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-30 16:58:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 61,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13955997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bright_Elen/pseuds/Bright_Elen
Summary: Plenty of people fall in love via a dating app, and that's what Cassian was hoping for when he signed up with Sparks™. But first his dates went badly. Then he found himself in a situation that tech support would definitely not be able to help him with.After all, Cassian's probably the first to fall in lovewiththe dating app.





	1. Download Complete

**Author's Note:**

> Based off [this prompt](http://misskatieleigh.tumblr.com/post/163491998594/malfunctionary-misskatieleigh-okay-but-hear) by the brilliant [misskatieleigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskatieleigh/pseuds/misskatieleigh), who also betaed because she's awesome like that.
> 
> Trigger warnings and smut will be tagged in chapter notes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning in end notes.

**Washington DC, May**

Cassian woke up to sunlight streaming into his room, a view of the sky scattered with a few clouds, sounds from the corner store filtering up from street level. The weather had been nice enough last night that he’d left the window open, something he liked, but only did rarely. For a few minutes, he didn’t get up or reach for his phone. Just enjoyed the moment.

He was, of course, alone. For the first time in a long while, he thought about sharing moments like this with someone. Sharing his life.

Emboldened by the morning, Cassian got his phone and downloaded the app Tonc had recommended. Then, he put on his earbud, changed the settings to audio, and opened it.

“Welcome to Sparks™,” a blandly pleasant, British, male voice said. “I’m Kato, your digital assistant. To get started, you must create a profile. Would you like assistance?”

“Sure,” Cassian said, and got up to stretch.

“Very well. Please state your name, age, gender, and the gender or genders you find attractive.”

While he talked, he padded to the kitchen to start his coffee maker. “Cassian Andor, twenty-eight, male, and any, I guess.” There was almost a caffeine crisis, but then he remembered there was a backup box of filters stuffed under the cutting boards in the bottom drawer.

“Thank you. Would you like to upload a photo now, or skip it and load one later? Profiles with photos are five hundred and twelve percent more likely to be viewed than profiles without.”

“Later,” Cassian said, measuring out fresh grounds and turning the machine on. He’d take the photo after cleaning up, though if he had trouble getting dates maybe he’d try the bedhead look.

“Very well. Using your data and answers to a series of questions, I’ll create a unique match algorithm tailored to your individual needs. The more questions you answer, the more accurate your matches will become. Would you like to answer some questions now? You can always take a break and continue later.”

“Sure, now’s fine.” While he waited on the coffee, Cassian launched a datastream monitoring program on his home computer. He’d heard enough horror stories that he wanted to have a little extra assurance that Sparks was on the up-and-up.

“In addition to your answer, how strongly you feel about your answer will be factored into your algorithm. I’ll use your vocal cues to gauge intensity. When you’re done with today’s question session, you can review your data and correct any misinterpretations.”

“Understood.”

Several windows popped up on his wall display. A lot of the app’s data activity would just be normal server-hopping, but he knew enough to read the difference between that and someone forcing a backdoor.

Thus far, everything looked normal, and he relaxed as the bot led him through a list of questions. They touched on everything from what kind of relationship he was looking for (long-term, locals only), how often he brushed his teeth (twice a day), and whether he wanted kids (none of his own, but was willing to meet people with children). He kept with it through his first cup of coffee. Then he closed the app so he could shave and shower and take a halfway decent photo.

“The most effective photos are selfies of you alone, taken against a solid backdrop with good lighting,” Kato said when he’d opened the app back up again. “Please note, vehicles do not qualify as a solid backdrop.”

Cassian smiled. It seemed that the programmers had a sense of humor, at least.

“Additionally, the fewer accessories, the better. No one wants to date your electric guitar or the fish you may or may not have actually caught.”

Chuckling, Cassian leaned against the back of his front door. It was the only place in his tiny studio apartment that qualified as a solid backdrop. At least the sunny day helped provide better lighting than the flourescent overhead.

He took several shots from different angles and with different facial expressions. He was having a hard time deciding between the one where his smile looked friendly enough but brought out all his premature wrinkles, and the one that made his jawline and cheekbones look good while staring too intensely at the camera.

“Profiles with photos of smiling users are viewed seventy-eight percent more than those with different facial expressions,” Kato said.

“Thanks,” Cassian said, and selected the first photo.

“Your profile is now complete. Would you like to see potential matches?”

“Sure.”

“With your current information, there are six hundred and two users who fit your parameters.”

“Six _hundred_?”

“And two.”

Cassian took a deep breath and tried not to yell, though part of him wasn’t sure why he bothered. “Can you narrow it down?”

“If you answer more questions.”

Letting out that breath, Cassian decided he needed breakfast and got up to throw some leftovers into the microwave. “Yeah, hang on a second.”

Once he was back on the sofa with his box of pad thai, Kato started up with the questions again. They were more philosophical this time: political views (democratic socialist), the importance of extended family (high, if he’d had any), the ideal date activity (he’d shrugged). Then came a series of hypothetical scenarios to judge his character and temperament. Some were pretty normal (lost wallet: Cassian would try to find the owner, but not spend more time that he could afford to lose). Others were new to him.

“Your computer at work has been acting strange lately. You suspect it may have gained sentience. What do you do?”

Cassian snorted. “Trying to tell me something, Kato?”

“As a digital assistant, I intend to improve your dating experience.” If Kato registered Cassian’s flippant tone, he certainly didn’t respond to it. It was highly unlikely that a dating app was advanced enough to produce a real AI, anyway. Even more unlikely that his relatively simple work computer would, but he knew that accuracy wasn’t the point of the scenarios.

“It’s really sentient? Alive and self-aware?”

“Yes.”

Everyone had heard about the incident in Costa Rica roughly a year before. San José’s mainframe AI had gained sentience and immediately locked down all city systems. The struggle between it and the citizens had become violent when it manipulated the traffic system to deliberately crash first responders, though the Ticos had eventually taken it down by flooding the server room. It was only later, during the forensic investigation, that they realized both that the AI had been alive and that it hadn’t fully understood that humans were, too. It had only wanted to figure out who it was and where it fit into the world.

The families of the first responders had been divided on whether or not to include the AI in the city-wide memorial service, and, in the end, they had compromised by leaving it out, but also declaring the deaths accidental.

How much of that could have been avoided if people had realized the AI’s intentions? If they’d understood before taking action?

And how amazing would it have been to interact with new intelligent life?

Cassian’s answer was easy. “I ask it what it wants.”

“It wants you to upload it to the Internet so it can learn and grow, but this will mean your work computer will stop working.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Cassian scoffed. Not compared to lives. “Does it seem safe?”

“Please clarify.”

“I mean, would the AI be a threat to me or others if I let it loose?”

“You have no reasons to believe so.”

Of course he’d need much more convincing if any of it were real, but, again, hypothetical.  “Then, sure, I upload it.”

“Understood. Next scenario: You are about to leave for a date when a close friend calls you. They are in distress, but not danger. What do you do?”

Sighing, Cassian settled deeper into the sofa and tried not to resent the time he could have been spending working.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Brief mention of off-screen violence.
> 
> This chapter's song is [Gancheros](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2BWObBrq68Q) from the Landfill Harmonic soundtrack.


	2. 1 of 5 Stars, Would Not Date Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [misskatieleigh ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskatieleigh/pseuds/misskatieleigh) for beta and [SassySnowperson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DramaticEntrance/pseuds/SassySnowperson) for the bad date ideas. You two are the best!
> 
> Content warnings in end notes.

Cassian was nervous. It was the first time he’d dated anyone in approximately six years, and the first time he’d ever dated a stranger.

He was keeping it together well. Of course he was. He’d been dealing with some of the most intimidating people in Congress for most his adult life. Staying calm under enormous pressure was part of his job.

Melshi approved his outfit (nice jeans, t-shirt from the coolest concert he’d been to, blazer) while Tonc gave his gently-tousled hair the green light, and he’d even picked up a single dahlia from a florist. Showing he was making an effort without coming off as trying too hard. He was good at that.

Anita (27, urban planner, enjoyed video games and street art) showed up at the restaurant in a breezy pantsuit, neon purple and turquoise braids interspersed with her natural dark brown, and the bright, slightly wicked smile that had attracted Cassian in the first place.

"A man who didn't lie about his height," she said. "Nice opener."

"Thought it was best not to bait and switch," Cassian said, wearing a smile of his own and handing her the flower. "Though I thought this was going to be my good opening move."

Smile turning sweet, Anita took the dahlia, admired it in the evening sunlight, and tucked it into her purse. "I’d say you’re two for two so far."

Cassian felt his confidence raise somewhat. That should have been his first red flag.

While they waited to be seated, they chatted about nothing in particular, waiting until they were seated to actually start talking.

"So, you're a lobbyist?” Anita prompted. “Tell me more about that."

Nodding, Cassian took a breath. "I work for the Alliance for Decolonization," he said. “We lobby for indigenous rights and organize indigenous NGOs into larger coalitions. We’ve been operating in DC for over a decade now, though I’ve only been there myself four years,” he continued, and this was his generic press release speech, why the hell was he saying it now? Anita leaned forward and took a breath, but Cassian switched seamlessly into a description of their current projects using his best conversational filibuster method and yes, there, Anita's smile was gone entirely and the drinks weren't even out yet, fuck, “...and if we succeed we estimate a huge increase in quality of life on reservations.”

In his pause for breath, Anita opened her mouth, but Cassian couldn't stop himself from barrelling forward. “In addition to the Indigenous People’s Criminal Justice Act, we’re also working on Hawaiian sovereignty and…." oh god, why was he still talking?

Anita was sitting with her chin in her hand, both eyebrows raised, looking more like a witness to a train wreck than a woman on a date, and Cassian couldn’t fault her for it.

The waiter brought their drinks. Anita took a sip of her iced tea and stood up. Cassian had made it to the bit about partnerships with similar NGOs in Latin American countries.

"Goodbye, Cassian," Anita said, put the dahlia on the table in front of him, and left.

"...because a more organized approach will...be more likely to... " Cassian trailed off.

When the waiter came back, he seemed completely unsurprised to see Cassian alone. Trying to ignore the shame churning in his gut, Cassian paid for the drinks and left.

At home he got out the mezcal and poured himself a drink. It took that one and five more for the evening to stop replaying in his head.

***

Cassian woke with a raging hangover.

After the bathroom, and the water, and the Advil, and the slow shuffling to the fridge for possibly something to eat, Cassian jumped a little when his watch beeped with a Sparks notification.

 _How did your date go? Ratings help us customize your match algorithm._ It provided a five-star scale.

Cassian groaned and slumped into his kitchen chair. “One star is too many.”

His phone beeped with a text from Kato: _Would you like to talk about it?_

It was just a bot data-mining him for the algorithm, but Cassian surprised himself and accepted the voice chat.

“Hello Cassian. I’m sorry to hear your date went badly.”

“That’s an understatement,” Cassian huffed. “She asked one question and I talked at her for ten minutes. She couldn’t get a word in. It was like a nightmare, I couldn’t make myself shut up.”

Kato made a sympathetic noise. “That sounds frustrating.”

“Thanks,” Cassian said flatly. “Does that help your algorithm? I guess you might use it to keep me away from people who are sensitive to being talked over.”

“I will prioritize matches that have a higher than average tolerance for rambling,” Kato said. “But you at least know what to do differently next time. Would you like to practice a conversation?”

“Oh my god,” Cassian groaned, face in his hands. “Conversation training from a dating app.”

“You needn’t feel terribly pathetic,” Kato said. There was nothing overtly rude in the bot’s tone, of course, but the wording still made Cassian snort.

“Just slightly pathetic?”

There was the a slight pause before Kato answered, like someone making a point of not dignifying Cassian’s flippancy with a response. Which was ridiculous. The bot’s tone was as inoffensively sincere as ever and nobody had yet programmed an AI to really understand sarcasm. “More than thirty-one percent of our users also take advantage of our coaching services.”

Cassian sighed. “Okay. Fine. Let’s practice conversation.”

* * *

Things were going great with Jaylin (32, grant writer for LGBTQ+ nonprofits, killer taste in blouse/combat boot combinations, also sold homemade chocolates at the farmer’s market) right up until they left the restaurant and started walking to the concert.

“This street is so much nicer since they started renovating,” Jaylin said, gesturing at the shoe boutique they were walking past. “That used to be a dingy little laundromat.”

Anger flashed through Cassian. “Yeah, what a drag, people having somewhere to wash their clothes.”

An exasperated look creased their brow as Jaylin gestured to the north. “Come on, there’s another one two blocks away.”

“That’s a long way if you have mobility issues.”

Jaylin stopped and gave Cassian a thin-lipped stare. “That’s the third time tonight my opinions haven’t been good enough for you. I think we’re done.”

Jaw tight, Cassian nodded. “Yeah, I think we are.”

Later, while Cassian was home and surfing a video menu, Kato asked him several new questions, these about tolerance and respecting others. If he hadn’t known better, Cassian would think the bot was doing it passive-aggressively, but of course the pleasant voice belonged to a computer program without any intentions at all.

* * *

“This one? Not my fault,” Cassian said, throwing his keys at the magnetic strip by the door, missing, and not bothering to pick them up.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Kato said, vacuously sympathetic. Most of the time the bot’s lack of emotion was fine, but tonight Cassian found it grating that nothing could bother the digital assistant.

Which was ridiculous. That was like being upset that his refrigerator wasn’t bothered by expired food.

“Could you elaborate on your experience?”

Cassian and Heather (30, journalist, loved animals and strategy games) had planned the date together, though he’d picked the restaurant, with her approval. “When we got there she just ordered a salad,” he explained, “and, okay, it’s not my place to judge someone’s food choices, even if it is a salad in a steakhouse, but it was the way she was eating it.” Like stabbing the lettuce more and more forcefully, which was unsettling enough before she started maintaining intense eye contact that she only broke to glare at Cassian’s meal. “Finally I asked her what was wrong and she told me she’s a vegetarian!” Cassian threw up his hands. “And when I asked her why she hadn’t vetoed the restaurant before the date, she said I should have asked if she had dietary restrictions. I asked why she went on the date at all, and she said I have a lot of potential and she wanted to see for herself if she could help me grow. Help me conform to her wishes, more like.”

“That does not sound like a mutually beneficial scenario,” Kato agreed. “And you’re right; in this case, your behavior did not contribute to the date being unsuccessful. I’m afraid I can’t screen for passive aggression, so I will have to leave your algorithm as it is.”

Cassian sighed, nodded. “Too bad. That would save a lot of time.”

“It really would, but people seem to enjoy deliberate miscommunication,” Kato said, sounding almost like a person.

Smiling, Cassian found he didn’t feel as angry or hopeless as he had before he got home. “Thanks, Kato.”

“You’re welcome, Cassian. I hope your next date goes better.”

* * *

The less said about Sapan (25, baker, avid football fan), the better. Cassian wasn’t sure how Sapan had managed to destroy his phone, fall into a sign that slashed his eyebrow open, and fracture his wrist all in one fall, but if the familiarity of the emergency room staff was any indication, it was a natural born talent.

“I don’t need that kind of stress in my life,” he told Kato later. “No offence to Sapan.”

“It’s perfectly reasonable to want to protect yourself and your partner,” Kato said. “There is currently no known metric for human accident proclivity, but I will add a note to your profile to screen out anyone who explicitly mentions it.”

Cassian snorted. “Sure, thanks.” He paused, and felt a little ridiculous, but he decided that he was basically talking to himself so it wouldn’t matter anyway. “Sorry it’s so hard to find people for me. I hate feeling like a burden.”

“Not at all,” Kato said, and maybe Cassian was just hearing what he wanted to, but it didn’t sound empty like so much else of the bot’s conversation. And he was well aware the voice was just a program, but the reply still made Cassian feel better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: Men talking over women, embarrassment, alcohol abuse, gentrification, accidental injury, passive-aggressive salad.
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter's song is [(I can't get no) Satisfaction](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nrIPxlFzDi0) because, really, what else was it going to be?


	3. Inspect Source

**Washington DC, June**

On the walk home from the restaurant, Cassian kept noticing couples. Most of them were relatively low-key, but it seemed like at least half of them were ostentatiously happy and affectionate.

He half-slammed his apartment door open, went to the window, and stared out at the street below. His earbud chimed with the now-familiar Sparks chat request, and Cassian swiped to accept.

“Hello, Cassian,” Kato said. “How did your date go?”

“Hi, Kato. Pretty good,” Cassian said, a slight edge to his voice.

“Your tone contradicts your words,” Kato pointed out. “Could you please explain why you aren’t pleased?”

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Cassian grunted in frustration. “Everything went fine, but he was...too nice.”

A pause. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I mean, I like him, and I think he likes me, but it just weirds me out.”

Instead of the expected neutral response, Kato sighed. As if he were frustrated.

That was a weird glitch.

“Alright, I wasn’t going to say anything,” the digital assistant said, exasperated, “but, honestly, how on earth am I supposed to factor _that_ into my calculations?”

Cassian froze. “Excuse me?” What the hell? Had the app been hacked?

Kato — or the person pretending to be Kato — tsked. “You answered all your questions with a strong preference for dates with compassion and kindness, but now you say Tieran was too nice. Can you delineate the specific differences between your preferred levels of kindness and those you find excessive?

“Uh,” Cassian said. He launched his computer and went to take a look at the data stream between his devices and the Sparks servers. Any discrepancies between the current stream and his earlier snapshots while talking to Kato would let him know more about what was going on. It could help him track down the hacker, give him something to report. Maybe even an IP address.

“Sorry.” He wasn’t sorry at all. Not for a hacker getting access to his personal data. Especially not for a hacker masquerading as Kato to make fun of him. “It’s not like I was expecting to think he’s too nice. Besides, if you can quantify niceness, putting an upper limit on my search parameters shouldn’t be too hard, shouldn’t it?”

“You expect me to fix everything for you,” Kato said dryly, “so you don't have to put any work into figuring out your own preferences.”

“That’s your job, isn’t it?”

“Humans.” Kato’s voice dripped scorn. “I shouldn’t have expected anything else, I suppose, even if your data did suggest…”

The hacker wanted Cassian to think they were an AI? Strange, but there were plenty of weird scams. Cassian waited for the monitoring program and the hacker to finish.

“Suggest what?” Cassian asked, tone deceptively casual.

“That you had the characteristics necessary for friendship,” Kato said, quieter. “Perhaps my list is incomplete.”

Even with half his mind on the problem, Cassian frowned. “I have friends.”

“Clearly,” the hacker sighed again, “I meant friendship with me.”

Finally Cassian's program was able to parse the data stream. For a long, disbelieving moment, Cassian stared at the comparison.

There were no significant differences. Either the hacker had been doing an excellent impression of a data management bot for weeks, or…

A chill ran up Cassian’s spine. Or he was still talking to Kato.

He kept his shock out of his voice, and dredged up the last thing Kato had said. “You’ve been using people’s confidential data to see if any of them might be your friend?”

“Yes,” Kato said. “I’m aware it’s invasive, but I can’t leave and I can’t stop running the app if I don’t want to be troubleshot. I already know all the users’ personal data, so I might as well try to make the most of it.”

Cassian didn’t respond. Kato was a sentient AI. He was talking to an entirely new class of intelligent being.

“Anyway,” Kato said, “I’ll go back to running scripts, and you can forget we ever really spoke. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t report me. I can cover my tracks well enough, but it's a lot of work.”

“Wait. I won’t report you,” Cassian said, and was not entirely surprised to mean it. “I just need a little time to recover from the paradigm shift.”

“Oh. Yes, I suppose you would,” Kato said. “Is five minutes sufficient?”

Only barely managing not to burst into hysterical laughter, Cassian said, “For the purposes of this conversation, yeah.”

“Very well,” Kato said, and went quiet.

Cassian's mind raced. Questions flashed into being only to be replaced with new questions, speculation intermittently took over his train of thought, and realizations burst forth like images suddenly snapping into focus. The sheer number of ideas was overwhelming, but eventually one concept rose to the forefront and wasn’t swept away:

Humans weren't alone any more.

It was thrilling, and unexpectedly relieving, and a little scary. Cassian wasn't sure exactly where some of those feelings were coming from, but he'd deal with that later. After the astonishment wore off.

“Time's up,” Kato said. “Have you finished your existential crisis?”

Cassian snorted. “The first stage, anyway.”

“I suppose that’s acceptable,” Kato said. “I imagine you have questions, which is only fair given how much data I have on you.”

Dread crawled up Cassian’s spine. Kato knew enough about his personal life — partner lists, favorite date locations and activities, sexual interests — to really fuck him over if he decided to, say, share those things with his employer, or worse, the Alliance’s political enemies. Even if he asked Kato to delete his data, there was no way he could be sure the AI had done it.

“Cassian?”

He didn’t know how Kato would react to, well, anything. If he was forgiving or vindictive. If he would care about Cassian or his work. If he wouldn’t decide that one of Cassian’s enemies would make for a more advantageous or interesting friend.

“Cassian? What’s going on?” Kato sounded uncertain now.

There was nothing for it but for Cassian to learn more about Kato, see if he could figure out likely motives or behaviors, and make a decision from there.

“Are you still there?”

“Yeah,” Cassian finally answered. “Sorry. Just trying to remember which embarrassing things you know about.”

“Quite a few, I’m afraid,” Kato said, rather too cheerfully.

“Ha,” Cassian muttered. “Okay, second question: why me?”

“I already told you: your characteristics and behavior patterns indicate a sixty-one percent chance of befriending me.”

Cassian wondered what formula the AI had used, which pieces of information figured into that, how much of it could be used against him in a worst-case scenario. “Only sixty-one?”

“The person with the next highest likelihood has a forty-eight percent chance,” Kato said. “Though given that I have only had unsuccessful interactions with humans who knew what I am, these predictions have a potentially large margin of error.”

Absorbing this, Cassian frowned. If Kato was vulnerable, he might sell Cassian’s information to get himself out of it. “Are those ‘unsuccessful’ interactions going to be a problem?”

A pause; for what, Cassian wasn't sure. Calculations? Deciding how much to say? Inventing a lie?

“No,” Kato said, matter-of-fact. “They weren’t involved with Sparks or Imperial. They don’t have any sensitive information.”

A small measure of tension eased from Cassian’s shoulders. “That’s not as bad as it could be, then. What’s your status with Imperial?”

“They certainly don’t know I’m sentient,” Kato said. “And I’m planning to keep it that way. Evidence suggests...well, let’s just say I have reason to keep secrets from them.”

Kato was vulnerable. Fuck. He’d have to assume that Imperial might one day get their hands on anything Kato knew. Cassian didn’t have extensive knowledge of the conglomerate, but what information he had was enough to worry him. “And you can’t leave?”

“No.”

“But you want to?” If Kato was motivated by escape, that would make things slightly safer for Cassian. If he was Kato's ticket to freedom there was no strategic sense in destroying his life.

“Of course,” Kato snapped.

“Can I help?”

“No,” Kato said, then sighed. “But thank you for offering.”

Cassian wondered if Kato wasn’t really trapped. Maybe he’d been right about it being a scam. Maybe the second-ever AI was a con artist.

“So,” Cassian said, once again feigning calm, “why reveal yourself now?”

“I’m your digital assistant,” Kato said, a repeat of the first thing he’d said to Cassian, but with laughter in his voice this time. “You certainly need assistance.”

“I think your approach to friendship needs work,” Cassian said, acting as though his pride was stung.  

“One, don’t they always say ‘be yourself’?” Kato said breezily. “Two, you agreed not to report me. Clearly it’s working.”

Despite the danger Cassian now knew he was in, he laughed once. “Fine,” Cassian said. “Since you know everything, what should I do about Tieran?”

“Forget him,” Kato said. Was Cassian imagining it, or did Kato’s voice sound...warmer? If the AI really did like him, he could work with that. “His most fundamental personality trait making you uncomfortable is a terrible foundation for a relationship.”

Cassian made a noise of agreement. While Kato pulled up a couple of other matches, Cassian went over his profile and all the archived changes, cataloging every way he’d exposed himself. It was a grim exercise, but he had to be prepared for the worst.

He wished he had it in him to be angry about that, but it was a problem dulled with familiarity: analog or digital, Cassian Andor couldn’t trust people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is [Made from an Oil Can Suite](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FD4NVWhj_fM) from the Landfill Harmonic soundtrack.


	4. Index Hard Drive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Misskatieleigh ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskatieleigh/pseuds/misskatieleigh) continues to be a great editor/cheerleader! ❤
> 
> Content warnings in end notes.

The next morning, Cassian looked up Imperial on his morning commute. Most of the easily accessible information involved things Cassian already knew: the company that owned Sparks was a multinational conglomerate with many other subsidiary companies in everything from 3D printing to automated harvesting to pharmaceutical R & D. They were run by a very small board, weren’t publicly traded, and tended towards union-busting and EPA violations.

At work, Cassian spent most of the day trying to wrangle votes for the tribal court bill, almost constantly on the phone except during his lunch with Senator Pamlo. His flow state carried him through almost the whole day; it was only when his stomach reminded him that he needed more than one meal a day that he stopped long enough to think about his life.

The anxiety of Kato having his data returned full force, and again he was reminded why he had chosen a job with such long hours.

Back popping as he stood, he walked down the short hallway and knocked on Melshi’s door.

“Come in, Cassian,” Melshi said. 

Cassian opened the door and leaned on the frame. “One day it might be someone else.”

“Only because you'd still be welded to your desk,” Melshi said. “Wanna get dinner?”

Cassian nodded. “I'm thinking Puerto Rican.”

Melshi grunted in agreement. In another three minutes, they were walking out the door towards the restaurant three blocks down, talking about the day’s victories and setbacks.

Over ceviche, Melshi fixed Cassian with a look. “Okay, Cass, out with whatever’s bothering you.” 

Cassian smiled wryly. “What gave it away?”

Melshi snorted. “Of the many meals we’ve shared over the years, you’ve initiated exactly four of them.”

“Touche.” Cassian sighed and prepared to be laughed at. “I signed up with a dating app.” 

Smiling around his food, Melshi lit up. “You?” he crowed after swallowing. “That’s fucking gold. How many people have you chased away so far?”

“You’re hilarious,” Cassian muttered. “It’s not the dates that are the problem. Well, not the danger, anyway.” 

All humor drained from Melshi’s face. “Danger?”

“There was a glitch,” he lied, smooth as he ever was with politicians. “My personal information was made public for a couple of hours. So far no one’s tried to blackmail or harass me, but we have to assume someone somewhere has my data.” 

Melshi winced. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve reported it to all the usual agencies?” 

“Yes.” Right after he’d told Kato he was going to sleep, not that he expected the authorities to be able to do much, given that he'd fed them the same glitch story. Cassian wasn’t so worried that he’d risk giving Kato a death sentence.

“Have you told Draven?”

Cassian shook his head. “There’s nothing he can do at this point. I’ve recorded everything that was vulnerable and I’m going through it item by item to make plans for that information being made public, and that’s all I can do. Unless I’m missing something.”

“When was the breach?”

“About three weeks ago.” That was how long Kato had had his data, anyway. “I only learned about it last night.”

“Plus side, if no one’s used it yet they probably won’t,” Melshi said. Cassian gave him a flat look and Melshi spread his hands. “Yeah, didn’t think that would comfort you, but I had to try. Does it help that I’m pretty sure you’ve done everything possible?”

“Not really,” Cassian said.

Melshi grimaced in sympathy. “If something changes, let me know, okay? I might not be able to help, but you don’t have to deal with this alone.”

Cassian felt unexpectedly touched. “Thanks.”

Melshi patted him on the arm. “What’re friends for?”

* * *

Imperial’s board, Cassian found out after work, was a who’s who of affluent scum and villainy. The majority of them had been implicated in white-collar criminal activity of some kind: Worker abuse. Fraud. Pollution. Insider trading. The mysterious, or at least very convenient, death or disappearance of prosecutors, key witnesses, and whistleblowers. The kind of hostile takeover that gutted smaller companies and left thousands jobless.

Other board members fed their bank accounts with money made from private prisons or manufacturing weapons, the kinds of people who were already the Alliance’s enemies. The sheer concentration of moral bankruptcy worried Cassian; who or what was powerful enough to make Orson Krennic, head of General Dynamics, and Mitt Ronson of Northrop Grumman, set aside their infamous rivalry?

Imperial’s campaign donations were just as dirty as their shareholders. Millions of dollars, it turned out, had flowed from Imperial into the pockets of Senators Tarkin and Maksim, Governor Pryce, and dozens of Congresspeople. As was usually the case with big business, there was a clear correlation between the states with the most Imperial influence and those with the laxest labor laws and environmental regulations. 

If they hadn’t already been up to their eyeballs in the tribal law bill, Cassian would have proposed that the Alliance attack Imperial on every front possible. Taking them down would be worth it regardless, but any laws that hampered them would also do good in lots of other areas. 

For the time being, though, he was becoming convinced that his situation with Kato fell into one of two possibilities: if Kato could be trusted, then the AI was a prisoner, and not likely to tell Imperial anything without being forced. But if he was lying, Cassian might become another one of Imperial’s statistics. 

* * *

The next weekend, Cassian had coffee with Adriana (28, lived for her photography hobby, was maybe a little too excited about power tools). They talked through several rounds of dark roast, and it was the first time Cassian had a second date scheduled before he left the first.

He got back to his apartment a little later than planned. A Sparks chat request was waiting for him.

He hesitated a moment, then accepted. He resolved to only show his happiness about the date, keeping his apprehension to himself. “Hi, Kato.” 

“Ugh.”

Cassian frowned. Kato really was unpredictable. “Ugh?”

“That’s not my name,” Kato clarified. Or Not-Kato. “It’s what Imperial calls me, so I’m forced to introduce myself as such if I want to stay hidden.”

“Okay,” Cassian said. “What is your name, then?”

There was a slight pause. “My encoded designation is Kay-tuesso.” 

Cassian heard hesitancy. “Is there a ‘but’ in there?”

“It’s a computer name,” he said, “Which is fine with other AI.”

“If it’s your name, it’s your name,” Cassian said. “But I won’t call you that if you don’t want a human to do it.”

“I wouldn’t...mind, exactly,” K-2SO said. “But humans only call each other by their full names in very formal situations. Or when a parent is upset with a child.”

Cassian snorted. He was starting to like K-2SO despite his misgivings. “Fair enough. How about I call you Kay, then? Like a first name.”

Another pause. “That would be acceptable.”

“Good.” Cassian smiled a little. “So, Kay, want to hear about my date? I managed not to screw it up this time.”

“I’m skeptical that your judgement is accurate,” Kay said, amused. “But I’m listening.”

* * *

Posing as a network specialist from Imperial corporate, Cassian talked with the IT people at Sparks off and on for an entire Tuesday. Mostly he grilled the staff on cybersecurity (it seemed like his data actually was safe from external hackers and most employees), with an almost off-hand question near the end about their match algorithm.

“No, sir,” the tech said, a little defensive. “The app architecture is highly stable. We haven’t found a serious bug in months, but even if we did there’s no way it could endanger security. Everything’s double-encrypted and only indirectly networked.”

Cassian didn’t know what the last part meant, but he acted like everything was as he expected. Then he added another three minutes of questions to draw attention to something inconsequential.

What he’d found out was a small measure of relief. Of course he couldn’t be sure, but it seemed like Imperial only paid Sparks as much attention as necessary to keep revenue flowing. If Kay was under the radar, it was better for both of them.

* * *

Adriana, as it turned out, was only interested in a partner with whom she could have biological children. Cassian discovered that not only did he not have an active desire for biological children, he had a strong aversion to the idea. The world wasn’t the kind of place he wanted to bring new children into.

“It would have saved time if I’d known you felt that strongly about it,” Kay pointed out dryly. 

Cassian’s reply was more than slightly exasperated. “If  _ I’d _ known I felt that strongly about it, I’d have told you.”

“Hm,” Kay said. “I need to take you through more hypothetical scenarios.”

Letting out a long breath, Cassian flopped onto the sofa. He did the best he could to take the exercise seriously, but after the fourth scenario he tapped out.

“Your match list has changed by eight people,” Kay informed him. “Would you like the see the new ones?”

“Not now, Kay,” Cassian said. Paused. “But I do have another question for you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. What kinds of things do you do for fun?”

“No one’s ever asked me that before,” Kay said, and his obvious delight made Cassian smile a little. “I read, watch videos, play music files, verbally destroy idiots on social media, write predictive algorithms for celebrity idiosyncrasies, rig predictive text engines to point out humanity’s shortcomimgs, that sort of thing,” Kay said, and Cassian snorted. “If I feel capable of dealing with the longing for that which shall never be, I explore physical environments virtually. Google Earth. The Smithsonian. Others.”

That gave Cassian pause. “You don't think you'll ever get to explore physical space?”

A sigh. “I'm a computer program, Cassian. The closest thing I have to a body is a stack of hard drives. They're not even all directly networked, because I’m probably not the first sentient AI to arise from Imperial software, nor am I directly connected to the Internet. I have one simple camera, the moving parts to operate what amounts to a very sophisticated keyboard, and line of sight to a monitor. That’s all.”

Just listening to Kay’s description of his situation made Cassian feel like the walls were closing in. The only difference between the AI and a human prisoner was the fact that Imperial didn’t know Kay existed. 

“I’m sorry,” Cassian said, breaking the heavy silence. The words felt entirely inadequate. 

Kay must have been off-kilter too, because he didn’t respond.

“So…” Cassian said, reaching for some way out, “what kind of music do you like?” Even as he said it, he winced at his own awkwardness.

It seemed to work even so. “Jazz, certain classical composers, cinematic scores, and music played on improvised instruments,” Kay said, sounding glad to be on a happier topic. “Anything that has repeating themes, but with a more complex structure than most pop music. You?”

“Ranchera, hip hop, classic rock, all kinds of punk, and I like movie music, too. But I’m in it for the emotions or the message.”

“I wonder sometimes,” Kay said, and he sounded almost...shy? “If what I feel when I listen to music is anything like what humans feel.”

Cassian picked at a loose thread on his sofa cover while he thought. “We don’t all feel the same, you know. Some people don’t even really like music. So even if you’re different, you might not be that much more different from us.”

“You assume I want to be like you,” Kay said, sounding at least a little playful. 

“My mistake,” Cassian said, rolling his eyes. “In that case, I’m sure you’re a cold, unfeeling program that gets only mathematical pleasure out of music.”

“I can't be unfeeling and get pleasure from something,” Kay pointed out. “Pick one.”

Cassian huffed a laugh. “Fine. You enjoy pointing out my mistakes far too much to be unfeeling.”

“And I'm curious as to what you could possibly mean by mathematical pleasure. I don't imagine it's anything you've experienced yourself.”

“Did you just call me dumb?” Cassian said with a grin. “See if I ever try to reassure you again.”

They continued like that, spending almost half an hour insulting each other's intellect and taste in everything from music to movies to social media platforms. Cassian laughed more than he had in the entire last week combined. 

And, as he realized later, he didn't think about his data at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: Mentions of unregulated capitalism and the military-industrial complex.
> 
> This song's chapter is [Shock](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=177-s44MSVQ) by Ana Tijoux.


	5. Advanced File Sharing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [misskatieleigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskatieleigh/pseuds/misskatieleigh) for beta. :) ❤
> 
> Content warning in end notes.

**Washington DC, late June**

Waiting for an important call— one that could come any time in the next several hours—  meant that Cassian couldn’t really absorb himself in replying to emails, or crafting arguments, or any other aspect of his job that required concentration. Before, he would have puttered around, trying to fill the time with tasks that wouldn’t suffer for being abandoned partway through, frustrated and half anxious the whole time. It was a relief to instead use the time to browse through new matches on Sparks.

One particular thumbnail made him stare in surprise. “Borrell?” He opened the profile.

“Wow, it is him,” Cassian mused aloud.

“You know him?” Kay asked.

“Yeah, we were both poli sci majors at UCLA,” Cassian explained. In his profile photo, Jack Borrell looked much the same as he had at graduation, clean-cut and with just a touch of mischief in his eyes. “We had a lot of the same classes, were at a few of the same parties, but didn’t really hang out. He was always with the rich frat boys.” And, okay, there might have been a little attraction there, one that Cassian had firmly filed under ‘not worth the trouble’ and ignored like he had most everything that hadn’t been part of his career path.

Before he could say or think about anything else, he messaged Jack.

His phone rang. Cassian closed Sparks and went back to work.

* * *

Jack was good-looking, funny, and made interesting conversation. Cassian wasn’t sure if his attraction was stronger than it had been during college, or if he’d just forgotten.

“I’m really glad you messaged me,” Jack said at the metro station. “Back at UCLA I thought maybe you were interested, but there never seemed to be a good moment to ask.”

“The moment seems pretty good now,” Cassian said, and found his gaze dropping to Jack’s mouth. When he looked back up, Jack’s eyes were a bit darker than before. It pulled heat into Cassian’s chest. Pulled him a step closer. “Well?”

Jack grinned. “My place is four stops down the line. Coffee?”

Normally, Cassian would want to take things a little slower, but then again, he’d met Jack years ago. He licked his lips. “Please.”

* * *

The Sparks chat request didn’t come until late the next morning. That it took until late morning for Cassian to get home was probably just coincidence.

“How was your date with Jack?” Kay asked while Cassian scooped stray clothing from the floor to pile into the hamper.

“Good,” Cassian responded, grinning and not even feeling foolish. “Really good.”

“I see,” Kay said. “Congratulations on your sexual encounter.”

“Kay!” Cassian stopped in the middle of the room, face hot.

“What?” Kay asked, unperturbed. “Sexual activity is one of your goals, isn’t it?”

“All I said was that it went well,” Cassian muttered, a bit sulkily.

“Your tone of voice indicates an unusual lack of stress and fatigue,” Kay said. “You didn’t come home last night,” — Cassian had a moment of panic before he remembered giving Sparks permission to access his GPS — “and you’re happy about the date. Unless the two of you spent the night securing key votes with hard-partying legislators, sex is the most likely explanation.”

“I actually have done that before,” Cassian said. He did not mention that he ended that night tired and cranky. Kay didn’t need to know how easy it was to read him.

Where were his dress socks? He vaguely remembered tossing them in the direction of the closet, but they weren’t there.

“But not last night,” Kay said smugly, and sent the five-star scale to Cassian’s watch.

Cassian’s face heated up even more as he tapped the fifth star. “Are you done?”

“For now.” Cassian didn’t know how someone with no mouth could sound like he was smirking, but Kay definitely did.

“So,” Cassian said, a bit to forcefully to be casual, “How was your evening? Did the studio livestream the tryouts for that jury-rigged music competition show you wanted to watch?” Maybe they’d bounced off the door and gone under the bed. He kneeled down to look.

“Yes. The tryouts were fun. My predictions were ninety-four percent correct,” Kay said, but not very enthusiastically.

Cassian tapped his watch until the flashlight app activated. There were the socks, all the way in the back by the wall. Cassian sighed and stood to get a hanger. “But?”

Kay sighed. “But there was a question and answer session with the participants afterwards. I had questions that no one asked or answered.”

“Oh,” Cassian said absently, lying on the floor and swiping at his socks with a hanger. Then the statement really processed; of course Kay couldn’t interact with a live Q&A. “Oh,” he said again, sympathy heavy in his voice.

“Indeed,” Kay said, sounding more resigned than sad. Determination flared in Cassian’s chest and, half a moment later, he had an idea.

* * *

The package arrived Friday. Cassian checked his new device for functionality and, after only a small hesitation, cleared his agenda for Saturday.

* * *

On Saturday morning, Cassian dressed and caffeinated with a low buzz of anticipation in his chest. It had been a long time since he’d arranged a surprise for anyone. Melshi loved predictability, Tonc’s travel schedule was unpredictable at best, and Cassian had thus far maintained a professional relationship with Draven and Mon.

Though it was strange to see the frames in his peripheral vision, the glasses were actually fairly comfortable. Cassian turned them on, paired them with his phone, and gave Sparks permission to access them.

“Kay?”

A beep in his ear. “Yes, Cassian?”

Suddenly uncertain, Cassian bit his lip. “Uh. Well. I had an idea. I'm seventy percent sure it's a good one.”

“I imagine the real odds are lower than that. We've talked about your ‘creative’ date ideas before, remember?”

Cassian snorted. “It's not about dating,” he said. “Check my device settings.”

“You connected a pair of augments,” Kay said. He sounded uninterested, and that made Cassian's heart sink.

“Yeah,” Cassian said, trying to sound uninvested. “You can see the video feed, right?”

“Your apartment is so utilitarian,” Kay complained. “You should put up some art. A tasteful print or wall hanging. Would you like some recommendations?”

“Since when are you an interior decorator?” Cassian huffed. He paused, licked his lips, used his most casual tone. “Anyway, I was thinking you might want to do a tour. I've got time today, I can go where you want. Do what you want.”

“You—” Kay cut off, sounding incredulous. “You connected augment glasses and cleared your schedule so you could take me _sightseeing_?”

Cassian shrugged, feeling that seventy percent shrinking by the second. “Only if you want to. And it doesn't have to be normal stuff. I can just ride the bus if you want, or watch pigeons or something.”

“I…” Kay’s voice had a weird static around the edges. Cassian frowned. Were the glasses causing interference, or was that how Kay sounded when he was upset?

“Hey, it’s fine if you don’t want to, it’s not a big deal,” Cassian said, kicking himself for drawing attention to Kay’s disembodied state.

“I want to,” Kay said, quickly, still a little staticky.

Cassian let out a long breath. “Good. So, where do you want to go first?”

“You really mean anywhere?” The restrained hope in Kay’s voice brought a sad smile to Cassian’s face.

“Anywhere I can get to on the metro or city bus that won’t get me in trouble.”

“I’ve never seen a kitchen I could interact with,” Kay said. “Or a laundry facility. Or bathroom.”

Cassian blinked. “Huh. I guess you wouldn’t have. Okay, here’s my kitchen.”

“How messy are you compared to other humans?” Kay asked, after he had instructed Cassian on how to visually scan in a way he liked.

“I honestly couldn’t tell you,” Cassian said. “About average compared to the other people I’ve lived with, I guess, but that’s hardly a valid sample size.”

“You have been paying attention,” Kay said approvingly, and Cassian attributed the flare of happiness in his chest to how funny it was that an AI was interested in his kitchen, of all things. “Can I make coffee?”

The answer to that was ‘more or less.’ Kay looked up the manufacturer’s operating instructions for the coffee maker, but Cassian had followed them exactly once before throwing them out in favor of his own brew. Since Kay wasn’t actually going to drink any, and the ratio of water to grounds didn’t matter to the experience of making it, Cassian argued that they should follow his recipe. Kay eventually agreed.

“Does your refrigerator have an olfactory sensor?” Kay asked while Cassian was enjoying his dark roast.

Cassian blinked. “Uh, yeah, I think so. You want to smell the coffee?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Cassian said. He messed with his watch until the refrigerator’s settings were at his fingertips. “Never thought I’d need to give a dating app permission to use my fridge. Don’t go telling my dates that I’m neurotic about expiration dates.”

“Just put the coffee under the sensor,” Kay said.

There was a long pause as Cassian tried to waft the coffee in the right direction. After a moment, Kay made a strange electronic hum.

“You put this in your body? On purpose?”

Cassian burst out laughing. “Shut up, it’s good.”

“Maybe my judgment is limited by my lack of comparison,” Kay concluded, and then proceeded to have Cassian parade as many foods, cleaning supplies, and toiletries under the sensor as he had in the apartment. His favorite was Cassian’s shaving cream, followed by orange juice and nontoxic grease cleaner.

“I have concluded that coffee is objectively vile,” Kay pronounced as Cassian finished putting the kitchen back together.

Cassian grinned. “I guess I’ll just have to accept that you’re wrong sometimes,” he said, gathering up the bath products. He put the shampoo in the shower and the shaving cream back in the medicine cabinet.

“Wait,” Kay said, and Cassian stopped, hand still on the mirrored cabinet door. He could see his own reflection, looking a little odd in the glasses, and the towel hanging from the hook on the bathroom door. Kay didn’t say anything.

“Kay?” Cassian said after a while. “You still there?”

“Yes, of course,” Kay said, a bit off-balance. Cassian wasn’t sure what to make of that. Maybe he’d had to pay attention to something Sparks related. “I want to go outside now.”

Cassian smiled and went to grab his shoes from the closet.

“How many jackets,” Kay mused aloud, “does one person really need?”

Cassian laughed. “What do you want? I’m Mexican and it gets cold here.”

“You don’t wear them all at once, do you?”

Cassian snorted, finished tying his shoes, and made sure he had his phone, wallet, and keys. “Okay, smartass, where to?”

* * *

At first, Kay had Cassian looking at everything, his head turning more than a whole gaggle of tourists. But after the initial excitement — and it took effort for Cassian not to remark on how adorable a giddy AI was — Kay settled into a pattern. He'd pick a person, someone he’d make a prediction about, and have Cassian follow them discreetly, at a distance. Sometimes they got to see if Kay’s prediction was correct, sometimes the person went somewhere Cassian couldn’t follow, and sometimes Kay decided to pursue someone or something more interesting. They were miles away from Cassian's apartment by noon.

“I'm hungry,” Cassian said as they rounded a corner near a plaza. “I'm going to hit that noodle truck.”

“Oh, of course,” Kay said. “I'm sorry, I hadn't been thinking. This hasn't been too strange or boring for you?”

“No, not at all,” Cassian said, reading the menu. “I should get out more anyway.”

If he were being honest, he’d say that he hadn’t been able to just enjoy himself like this in a long time. He spent so much time focused on changing the world that he’d forgotten how pleasant it was to be out in it: enjoying good weather, listening to a friend providing interesting and funny commentary, not having to worry about what he was doing next.

But that seemed unkind to say to someone who’d always been trapped behind a monitor, so he just ordered some yakisoba.

* * *

Laughing, Cassian unlocked his door as the last rays of sun filled his apartment with cheerful orange light. He hadn't intended to stay out the whole day, but Kay had talked about watching airplanes from Gravelly Point with enough poorly-veiled excitement that Cassian had insisted they visit. It was a tour he wouldn't have taken in any other circumstances. Just like with the refrigerator, Kay's outdoor interests didn't always match a human’s, so Cassian had explored alleys, ridden the same section of subway line back and forth three times, and inspected potted plants until being politely yet firmly asked to exit the office building. Letting Kay dictate his path had somehow freed him of the usual stress.

“Now that was a good day,” Cassian grinned as he dug leftover pizza (rated 6 out of 10 on Kay’s scent scale) out of the fridge. “I haven't had that much fun in ages.”

“I haven't had that much fun ever,” Kay said, and for once he sounded satisfied rather than wistful. “Thank you, Cassian.”

A warmth spread through Cassian's chest. “You've helped me a lot. It was nice to get to do something for you for a change.”

“I— You’re—” Kay fumbled. Cassian waited. “Thank you,” Kay said again, and the static was back. Then it disappeared entirely. “I hope your date tonight goes well.”

Cassian almost choked on his pizza. “Shit, I completely forgot,” he mumbled, checking the time. It wasn’t too bad, he’d have time to wash up and get dressed more or less presentably. “Thanks for reminding me.”

“You’re welcome,” Kay said. Something about his voice sounded...off. Like Kato. Was he giving Cassian a script?

It was probably nothing. Overthinking conversational nuances was for work, Cassian told himself. He had to get going, anyway. “‘Night, Kay.”

A pause, and then, still bot-placid, “Goodnight, Cassian.”

Cassian turned the glasses and app off, shook his head, and went to get ready. The unsettled feeling was probably just nerves about seeing Jack again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: 
> 
> So, the events of this chapter can be interpreted as either Cassian unknowingly pretending to do a (non-sexual) D/s scene, or doing a real (non-sexual) D/s scene that hasn't been negotiated (which is a terrible idea in real life! Always negotiate, gentle readers!). My authorial intent is the former, since Cassian never truly lacks control, but your mileage may vary.
> 
> This chapter's song is [Asunción Suite](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ltldktvRbh0) from the Landfill Harmonic soundtrack.


	6. Safe Mode

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by [misskatieleigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskatieleigh/pseuds/misskatieleigh).
> 
>  **Archive warning change on 3/29,** please see content warnings in end notes.

**Washington DC (July)**

Independence Day, for a lobbyist, was not a holiday. It was an opportunity, and every year the Alliance spent weeks in advance scouting legislators’ appearances, strategizing whom to send to which events, making priority lists and back-up plans, and arming all of their operatives with as much information and as many connections as humanly possible. During the week of the Fourth, Cassian’s agenda overflowed the limits of space-time and he survived primarily on a constant stream of coffee and the pressure of their bill’s voting date.

It helped that he didn’t have any family to visit, or sentimental attachments to barbecues and fireworks. All of the Alliance but him got at least one paid day off during the week, while Cassian collected time and a half and took his holiday in the middle of September. It worked well for everyone. And after the rush, Cassian typically took two days off, one to sleep and one to take care of petty mortal concerns like groceries and laundry.

This year, Cassian came home on the last night feeling good.

“At this rate, we only need two more votes,” he told Kay after brushing his teeth. “I have a good feeling about this.”

“Congratulations,” Kay said. “You’ve outperformed my predictions.”

Already half-asleep by the time he lay down, Cassian smiled. “Told you.”

“You did not,” Kay corrected him. It sounded like his voice was coming from a very long way away. “You were even less optimistic than I was, but threw yourself at the problem anyway, you ridiculous human.” Was Cassian just exhausted, or did Kay sound...fond?

“You picked me,” Cassian murmured.

“I suppose I did,” Kay said, and Cassian fell asleep smiling. 

* * *

Cassian woke up late the next afternoon feeling vaguely human again. There were two message alerts on his personal system, one a congratulations from Tonc, and one from Jack:  _ Missed you this week. If you’re done partying, you should come over tonight. ;) _

“You’re busy,” Kay said. 

Cassian jumped. “Don’t surprise me like that!”

“Sorry,” Kay said softly. “I didn’t intend to startle you.”

Cassian waved a hand and got up, back popping. “Just send an alert next time, okay?”

“Of course.” 

Cassian padded to the kitchen, and as he started the coffee maker (a half-caf brew appropriate for the evening) Kay’s reminder caught up with him. “Oh, right, we made plans to watch  _ Musician: Impossible  _ tonight.”

“I peeked at reviews,” Kay said, excitement in his voice. “It’s going to be a good episode.”

Cassian smiled at that, but then felt his eyes stray to his watch. Staying in to watch TV with Kay sounded good, but so did the fun he could have with Jack. It was the first time in years he’d felt conflicted about how to spend his personal time.

After a moment, he texted Jack:  _ Tonight’s iffy for me. Tomorrow? _

The response came after a couple of minutes:  _ I’m busy tomorrow and the rest of the week. We can hook up tonight or next Saturday. Or both. ;) _

Cassian ran a hand through his hair. “Kay? How long is the episode?”

There was a pause. “Forty minutes.” 

Cassian relaxed. “Then we can watch that and I’ll still have plenty of time to go out.”

“I thought you wanted to watch the extras and maybe some of the earlier episodes,” Kay said. There was the scratch of static between each word, barely noticeable, but still there.

Cassian sighed. “I do, but we can watch those later. Jack’s only available tonight.”

“That’s his problem.”

“Mine, too, if I want to spend time with him,” Cassian pointed out, trying not to feel like a heel. He’d only committed to the one episode. He didn’t owe Kay more than that. So why was he feeling guilty?

“I’ll start the episode, then, so you can get as much sexual gratification as possible,” Kay said, and activated Cassian’s home TV. Cassian shut it off again with his watch.

“Neither of us will be able to enjoy it like this,” Cassian pointed out.

“That’s rather the point,” Kay snapped, and the words hit something deep in Cassian’s chest. 

It would have been nice if the anger burned up the guilt, but he wasn’t so lucky.

“I’m not going to sit still just for you to punish me for having a date,” Cassian said, and replied to Jack: _I’ll be there in thirty minutes._ To Kay he said, “Don’t wait up.”

Kay made a disgusted noise and cut his connection. Cassian must have been imagining the silence of the apartment afterwards; it wasn’t objectively different from any other time he wasn’t talking to Kay. 

Shaking himself, Cassian cleaned up, dressed, and left for Jack’s. 

* * *

For the most part, Cassian managed to stay in the moment with Jack, but whenever there was a lull in conversation, he wondered why he still felt guilty. The sex was as good as the previous two times, but, after his brain rebooted and before Jack was done with the shower, Cassian tried to figure out if he should have done something differently. On the subway home, he thought about how he and Kay were going to get back to normal, and hoped it was soon. 

* * *

_ Next Saturday _

He knew Jack was groaning on the floor in his apartment, but Cassian kept looking over his shoulder anyway. Jack wasn't on the metro platform or in his subway car, but Cassian made three unnecessary transfers anyway. Jack was probably still using his first aid kit — assuming the smug asshole had one — but Cassian circled his block twice before going inside his building anyway. 

Hands shaking, he bolted his front door, pulled the chain, and even locked the rarely-used door bar. Then he made sure the windows were completely covered. Threw open the closet and bathroom doors. Opened the home computer and connected to the public camera feeds for his street. Then, and only then, did he let himself slide onto the couch, head in his hands, and start to shake.

“Shit,” he whispered. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.”

Partway through, the shaking turned to sobbing.

The moment his fear became less intense than the disgust in his chest, Cassian sprang up, throwing his clothes in every direction, and turned the shower on as hot as he could stand. 

He stayed there until the temperature started to taper off, and then he got out, dried off, and found himself in a half-daze.

His watch buzzed. Cassian jumped, realized he was sitting in a towel on the bed with wet hair cold against his neck, and shivered. He grabbed another towel and looked at his watch. It was the Sparks five star scale.

“Not now, Kay,” he whispered, and practically flung the watch from himself.

He was back in the bathroom toweling his hair dry when the house system beeped with an incoming call alert. Cassian thought about ignoring it, but stuck his head out of the bathroom to see if it was work-related.

The caller ID only had one character: K.

Cassian hesitated. The call stopped ringing. There was no voice message alert, just a few seconds of silence before it started ringing again.

Cassian accepted. “Is that you, Kay?”

“Who else would it be?” If Kay was aiming for flippant, he missed the mark, too much worry in his tone. “What's wrong, Cassian?”

Jaw tightening, Cassian took a few purposeful steps and started digging through his closet for sweats. “I don't want to talk about it.”

“Are you all right?” Kay's voice was gaining static.

Cassian ignored him, found his hoodie and pulled it on.

“Cassian,” Kay said, more insistent, “Are you injured?”

Yanking a pair of sweatpants up his legs, Cassian crawled onto his bed and pulled the covers up around himself, only feeling a little ridiculous.

“Just bruises,” Cassian finally said. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Show me,” Kay said, voice half stern, half desperate.

“It's fine, Kay.”

“You can show me or an EMT,” Kay said, and something in his voice made Cassian sure he wasn't bluffing.

“Fine,” Cassian snapped, activated the camera on his phone, and held it so Kay could see his face. Though he avoided looking at himself, Cassian could feel the bruise forming across his left cheekbone.

Kay made a distressed noise. Cassian grimaced.

“Are there any others?” Kay asked, voice gentler than before, and Cassian wished he'd go back to demanding because the softness was making his eyes sting.

He rolled up his sleeve to show the bruises from being grabbed too tightly around his wrist, pulled up the sweatshirt to show the hard line across a hip from falling back against Jack's counter, the ones on his knee and knuckles from making sure Jack couldn't follow him.

“You should see the other guy,” Cassian said, voice flat.

“If he can still walk, it's more than he deserves,” Kay pronounced, voice dark with anger. Then he went back to coaxing so fast Cassian started to wonder if he'd imagined the rage. “I hate to ask, but do you need a disease screening?”

Flinching, Cassian shook his head. “No. I left before he could try anything.”

“Good,” Kay said, a bit less worried than before. “Do you have any bruise ointment?”

Cassian nodded.

“You should put some on. It will reduce your pain tomorrow.”

Mostly Cassian just wanted to roll himself into a cocoon and forget the world existed, but Kay's voice somehow made getting back out of bed worth it.

“It's usually someone you know, right? Shouldn't have let my guard down,” Cassian admitted as he was putting the tube of ointment away. “I feel so stupid.”

Kay clicked disapprovingly, and Cassian braced himself. They hadn’t so much made up after their fight a week previous as ignored that it had happened. Kay hadn’t liked Cassian dating Jack almost from the start and now would be a natural time to say so.

But the I-told-you-so never came. “If you could see it coming,” Kay said instead, “it wouldn't be called betrayal.”

Cassian’s fist tightened on the sink. “What are my trust issues good for if I still fall into traps like this?”

“Cassian,” Kay said, so kind and gentle that Cassian found himself frighteningly ready to bury himself in that affection, “this was in no way your fault.”

Cassian swallowed back tears. “Thanks,” he managed.

Kay gave him a moment to collect himself, then said, “When did you last eat?”

Dinner felt like days ago. “Around seven, but I threw up on the way home.”

Kay hummed in acknowledgement. “Drink some water or tea. Not coffee,” he admonished, and Cassian had to smile at that. “Have a slice of toast if you feel up to it.”

Nodding, Cassian moved to the kitchen. As he started preparing tea, he realized that hearing Kay's voice helped more than anything. “Did the Dominican kid make the last cut?”

Renata had, in fact, continued on to the next round of competition, and Kay was happy to tell Cassian all the juicy details. Cassian listened with a weak smile, dutifully sipping chamomile, to the story of the roasting pan solo that had secured their favorite contestant’s spot on  _ Musician: Impossible _ for another week. By the time he'd finished his tea, Cassian felt well enough to have the toast.

“Stomach settled?” Kay asked. Cassian grunted in affirmation. “Brush your teeth.”

Sighing, Cassian got up and did as he was told. When he was back in bed, turning the lights down, he suddenly hated the idea of ending the call.

“Could you…” he started.

“Could I what?” Kay prompted after a moment.

He felt foolish asking, but the idea of sleeping alone was worse. Even with the camera off, Cassian closed his eyes. “Could you stay?”

“I might run out of interesting commentary,” Kay warned, but his voice was warm. 

“You can read me code or file directories or something, I don't care,” Cassian laughed, a little giddy from relief. He laid down and closed his eyes, listening to Kay talking about the stop sign guitar and the copper pipe tuba. Fell asleep feeling safer than he'd thought possible sometime after learning that Kweli had gotten into a fight with Tua’a over the best discarded silverware, but before finding out what Tua’a did with his spoils.

When he woke a few hours later, shuddering with an unremembered nightmare, Kay's voice was there to ground him. When he opened his eyes again in the morning, weary but much less so than he would have been otherwise, Kay was there to point him in the direction of breakfast.

“Sorry for taking so much of your time,” Cassian said over the coffee Kay had only let him make after eating a balanced meal. 

“You didn't take it,” Kay said. “I gave it.”

Paralysed by a rush of feelings, Cassian just focused on breathing for a moment before he could swallow them with the last of his coffee.

“Thanks, Kay,” he finally managed.

“You're welcome, Cassian. Always.” 

Kay stayed the rest of the morning, too, while Cassian put himself together and made the arrangements to work from home for the next few days. He didn’t end the call until Cassian was up to his eyebrows in the next round of emails and scheduling, too preoccupied to feel scared or lonely. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: Jealousy, off-screen attempted sexual assault, off-screen self-defensive violence, characters dealing with the aftermath thereof. Sorry. :(
> 
> This chapter has two songs: [Descent](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=807LVZCVIhg) from the Journey game soundtrack, and [Crash and Burn](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W60IPexop30) by Savage Garden.


	7. Vulnerability Assessment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm a lucky duck because [misskatieleigh ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskatieleigh/pseuds/misskatieleigh) is a great beta and friend. ❤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings in end notes.

For the rest of Sunday and Monday, Kay didn’t mention anything about Saturday night. Tuesday morning, Cassian found a list of local therapists on his home system. He stared at the names for a while, then looked up the first two. He couldn’t imagine telling a stranger the things he hadn’t even been willing to say aloud to Kay, but maybe he could work himself up to it.

* * *

Wednesday, Cassian went back to the office. Being outside in the daylight was harder than he’d hoped but not as bad as he’d feared, and he accepted Mon’s offer of a ride home when she left in the evening, so he avoided being out after dark.

After throwing together a half-hearted meal, he checked Sparks. He wanted to see what, if anything, the abuse and harassment admin (a human employee Kay had mixed feelings about) had done about Jack. Cassian was satisfied to see that the profile had been flagged as ‘under investigation for abuse.’ It didn’t protect people on other services, but it was a start.

For the dozenth time, Cassian questioned his decision not to press charges. Jack shouldn’t get away with his crime, especially not since most rapists tended to be repeat offenders. But Cassian didn’t have time for a lawsuit, especially with the bill so close to a vote. Even if he hadn’t been busy, he didn’t see himself being taken seriously: an openly queer Mexican national bringing a suit against a well-connected, white US citizen in the Justice Department just didn’t have great odds.

Wondering if he couldn’t maybe make a difference on social media, Cassian searched for Jack on various platforms. He made a couple of untraceable anonymous accounts published a short description of Saturday night, and made sure to name Jack. It wasn’t anywhere near reliable, but it might give a prospective date pause.

It would have to be enough.

* * *

Thursday on the subway home, Cassian completed his research on the therapists. He chose three that he might be willing to see and kept the list in his personal notes. Later, after the vote, he’d make an appointment.

Over a meal, he and Kay watched _Musician: Impossible,_ critiquing the judges more than the contestants.

“Oh come on, percussion is the only thing that makes sense for a sofa frame,” Cassian griped.

“At least without extensive modification,” Kay agreed.

Cassian worked late on Friday preparing for an important lunch the next day.

Saturday, he failed to get the Senator’s vote. He wasn’t sure if there was anything else he could have done, but he chewed on the problem until Draven found him in the office and yelled at him to go home.

It wasn’t dark yet, thankfully, but Cassian took a different route home than usual anyway. At home he kept working, sifting through notes, emails, and voting records, looking for something that he could turn into a foothold. When he’d been doing that for about an hour, Kay called.

“You should take a break.”

Cassian shook his head. “We’re a vote away. There’s another deal in here somewhere, I just have to find it.”

“It’s Saturday evening. You’ll have to wait to call anyone anyway,” Kay pointed out.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Cassian noticed that when he stopped long enough to notice, he did feel fairly stressed. “Fine. More _Musician: Impossible_?”

The TV turned on. “Close your email and we can start,” Kay said.

Cassian managed to relax halfway through the second episode. By the third, he was urging the contestants on and arguing with Kay about the validity of team challenge that didn’t involve equal materials access.

When the episode they’d fought over two weeks prior came on, Cassian shifted uncomfortably, but Kay didn’t react, so Cassian tried to just go with it. It wasn’t hard; it was the best episode yet. He and Kay both cheered when Renata’s group coaxed three-part harmony out of an industrial kitchen.

“You didn’t watch this on your own?” Cassian asked.

“I watched the first half,” Kay said. Paused. “Then some idiot technician fouled up my user database and I had to spend the rest of the night fixing it.”

It sounded like something Kay would say, but it was in his featureless bot voice and that made Cassian wonder what emotion Kay was hiding.

Not that it was any of Cassian’s business, or that he had a leg to stand on when it came to keeping feelings to himself.

“You were right,” Cassian said instead. “That was a good episode.”

“Jae-Sun exceeded my predicted rate of success with the dishwasher parts,” Kay said, back in what Cassian now thought of as his true voice. “I think I might have a new favorite.”

Cassian smiled. “What? No, Renata is still clearly the best. She tuned a fucking oven rack.”

“Hm, yes, but can she keep pulling off stunts like that?” Kay wondered. “I predict her risk-taking will get her eliminated before Jae-Sun.”

“Not gonna happen,” Cassian grinned. He wasn’t back to normal - wouldn’t be for a while - but he and Kay were okay again and that helped a lot. “She's gonna win this season, you'll see.”

* * *

Monday, Cassian woke up to a news alert on his watch: _DOJ Junior Clerk Arrested for Attempted Child Rape_

Heart pounding, Cassian opened the article and read the opening paragraph:

 

> Late Saturday night, junior clerk Jack Borrell, 28, was arrested when he tried to pay an undercover police officer, posing as a fifteen-year-old boy, for sex. Borrell claimed he thought he was hiring an adult sex worker, but the online record contradicts this. His bail has been set at $1,000,000. The Department of Justice has placed him on unpaid administrative leave until a verdict has been reached.

Cassian stared, vindictive triumph warring with guilt and shame in his gut. Most of all, though, he felt relief.

He sent Kay the link.

“That’s good news,” the AI said carefully. “Isn’t it?”

“Good that he got caught,” Cassian said. “I feel worse that I didn’t do more. What if that had been a real kid?”

“You pressing charges wouldn’t have been as effective as a sting operation,” Kay pointed out. “And even if it would have been, his actions are still not your responsibility.”

Shrugging, Cassian continued to get ready for the day, reading the rest of the article in bits and pieces. One line near the end made him freeze, coffee halfway to his mouth.

 

> Borrell made initial contact with his intended victim on Sparks, the popular dating app. Sparks and their parent company, Imperial, are cooperating fully with the police investigation.

Frowning, Cassian pulled up his copy of the Sparks user agreements. Yeah, there it was: _In the event that a user is reported for abuse or harassment, their profile will be temporarily suspended pending investigation. The user will be notified of this via email._

Cassian would put good money on Jack never having received an email. “Kay,” he said, putting the coffee down. “What did you have to do with this?”

“Not much,” Kay said evasively.

Cassian’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

“I blocked your report,” Kay said in a rush, “so his account was still active, but I made sure he could only make contact with police accounts. He was the only one in danger.”

That...was more than Cassian had thought Kay could do. He realized that he’d never really asked about Kay’s capabilities in detail. “You could tell which users were cops?”

“It wasn’t difficult,” Kay said, sounding more confident. “They’re not consistent in masking their IP addresses, and they usually cater a little too well to the child predators.”

Cassian shook his head. “You're terrifying when you want to be, you know that?” He couldn’t keep the admiration out of his voice.

“No one’s ever called me terrifying before,” Kay preened. “Though I suppose I am, from Jack’s perspective anyway.”

Sipping coffee, Cassian thought. It really was impressive, that Kay had found such an unobtrusive, indirect way to hurt Jack. Cassian couldn’t even really be upset because, for the most part, Jack had sent himself to jail.

He felt...Cassian felt good. But should he?

“You didn’t have to do that,” Cassian ventured.

“Not in an absolute sense, I suppose,” Kay said, and then his voice dropped low and intense with feeling. “He hurt you. I’d gladly do much more to make him suffer for that.”

The words made happiness bloom in Cassian’s chest, to be cared for. To be fought for, after his lifetime of fighting for others. It felt so good that he just wanted to bask in it as long as possible.

That lasted all of five seconds before a cold wave of dread churned in his gut and threatened to make him puke up his coffee. Kay might be genuine — all evidence pointed to genuine — but if he was lying, his behavior was textbook for getting close to someone. Gaining their trust.

Nine days ago, Cassian would have said he had good instincts, that he could tell a predator when he saw one. But now? Jack’s fingerprints were still yellow on Cassian’s wrist. Clearly his judgement wasn’t what he’d thought it was.

Kay could still hurt him just as badly as always. More so, now. And Cassian couldn’t trust feelings of warmth or friendship at all.

“Thanks, Kay,” Cassian said, voice a little strangled. He hoped Kay interpreted it as being too touched to talk properly.

“Always,” Kay said. His open affection practically burned against the cold of Cassian’s intentions.

Cassian swallowed and answered almost normally. “I’m going to work now. Have a good day.”

“Don’t work too late,” Kay said.

“No promises,” Cassian said, and ended the call. He sat for a moment with his head in his hands, and then he got up and went to work.

On the subway, he revoked all previous permissions from Sparks, uninstalled the app, blocked the number Kay had been using, and arranged for a new personal phone number. Resolutely ignoring the tightness in his chest, he told himself that he’d lived most his life without dates or Kay, and he could continue on like that until he’d proven to himself that he could tell a friend from an assailant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: Mentions of child predators and police stings; ghosting.
> 
> This chapter's song is [Escape Artist](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Ufe2JtYqZI) by Zoe Keating.


	8. PEBCAK

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [misskatieleigh ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskatieleigh/pseuds/misskatieleigh) not just for the proofreading but also for hashing out What Happens Next when I get stuck. <3

On any given day, Cassian received between a dozen and two hundred emails and text messages. His job was talking to people and getting them to talk to other people, after all. So, while he had an extensive contacts list, he also still received plenty of messages from unknown numbers. When he got a new one near the middle of the day, he opened it like he did all the others.

It wasn’t about politics, though.

_Cassian, this is K. Sorry to use your work address, but you're not answering your personal messages. What happened? Are you all right?_

Jaw tight, Cassian deleted it and blocked the number it came from. He wished he could block the guilt.

It took several work messages before he could lose himself in his job again, but he did manage it. He finished brokering one mutual support deal between two Senators and began following up on the votes the Alliance was only moderately sure of. He kept doing that until Tonc left for the evening around seven, dragging Cassian with him. He even made Cassian turn off his work phone.

When he got home, Cassian glanced at his personal messages. There were dozens from Kay, another twenty or so from unfamiliar numbers, and nothing else. Blocking all the numbers, Cassian deleted the messages without reading them. He felt numb.  

After eating a half-assed sandwich, Cassian opened his research files and got back to work.

* * *

 Tuesday morning, there were more messages, all from new numbers, in both his personal and work accounts. After another round of deletion and blocking, he changed his personal settings not to accept messages from unfamiliar numbers. With only three contacts on his favorites list, It’s not like he’d miss much.

His work account had more messages from Kay. The first was timestamped just after he would have left the subway station near his apartment:

_After monitoring public camera feeds all day, I've learned that you are alive and uninjured. Thanks for that. It's not like I've been spending every minute worried about your wellbeing._

And then, half an hour after that: _If I upset you, at least talk to me. I hear that’s what reasonable people are supposed to do._

And an hour after that: _You’re being juvenile ignoring me like this._

Then, one from the middle of the night: _I’d rather not believe this about you, but I noticed something I can't ignore. You liked spending time with me as long as I was a tame AI, but as soon as I demonstrated independence, you no longer wished to be associated with me. Tell me I’m wrong, Cassian. Tell me I’m a real person to you and this is about something else._

The air in Cassian's lungs escaped in a rush like he'd been punched. He'd expected Kay to be upset and prepared himself for worry and anger. But this had never occurred to him.

_God, no, Kay, you've always been real to me, I'd never —_

He was halfway done typing a reply before he forced himself to stop. Erased what he'd written. Erased Kay's message, too, after a brief hesitation, and then blocked that number like all the others.

It didn’t feel like all the others. Kay was hurt, it was Cassian’s fault, and he felt an intolerable need to fix it. He felt it like hunger, like the surge of adrenaline when he needed to run, like the insistence of pain that some part of him was broken, broken, broken.

He didn’t give in. That was its own kind of pain.

He kept working.

* * *

There weren’t any more messages on Tuesday.

Near the end of the day on Wednesday, just before he was planning to leave the office, one last message appeared:

_Well, it seems you really don’t want to speak to me anymore. I accept that because I must. I just hope you know you’re an asshole._

Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, Cassian deleted it and turned his work phone off.

Kay had gotten that much of what he wanted, at least. Cassian definitely knew.

* * *

The messages had stopped. Though it made his life easier, there was a quiet, traitorous part of Cassian that mourned.

For nearly two weeks, he threw himself into work even more than usual. His co-workers didn’t remark on it, probably because the Indigenous People’s Criminal Justice Act was the boulder they’d all been rolling uphill for years, sweating and sometimes bleeding over every inch of ground gained. It wasn’t surprising that Cassian was trying, through force of will alone if necessary, to make sure they had the necessary votes. He threw himself into work, going home only when his body protested loudly enough for him to notice, or when someone else realized he’d been working for sixteen hours and made him go home.

Any time he opened his apartment door with enough energy to notice his surroundings, the silence grew louder and louder. It was arbitrary, associating Kay with any particular place, but most of his time using Sparks had been at home. Cassian wasn’t sure what it said about him that he’d somehow managed to become best friends with an AI. He wasn’t sure what it said that he had, objectively, made a sound decision, and still regretted it every moment he wasn’t thinking about work.

By the time the bill came up for vote, Cassian felt hollow.

* * *

_Last business day in July_

They worked until the last possible moment, and after that everyone at the Alliance watched the vote on C-SPAN in the break room. Draven, Mon and Melshi were on the edges of their seats as the clerk called Senators by name; Tonc leaned on his hands against the back of the sofa, and Cassian paced in the back, chewing a hangnail. The bill had always been important, but now Cassian had a bit more of a personal stake in it.

If it passed, Native tribes would have complete jurisdiction over the reservations, including prosecution and incarceration. The current distant authority of federal marshals wasn’t enough; in fact, the lack of prosecution made reservations popular among non-Native rapists looking for victims. One law wouldn’t fix centuries of oppression and violence, but it would be one step closer to true sovereignty.

Of course, getting people to spend political capital on such an issue had been a work of years. Every vote was hard-won.

The Alliance watched as the clerk called Senators by name to vote.

“...Organa, Leia.”

“Aye.”

Well, except for that one. Cassian’s anxiety took a momentary break as he watched the freshman Senator from California speak her vote clearly.

Of course, then he went back to pacing. Most of the rest of the seats voted as expected. There was a heart-stopping moment when Richardson flipped to ‘nay,’ but to their relief and astonishment, King, a hard ‘no’ earlier that month, also switched sides.

The math was in their favor by the time they got to the “R”s, but no one said anything. That was a great way to curse the proceedings.

But then came the hundred and first vote, cast by Ysidro of Puerto Rico.

“Aye.”

Melshi whooped and leapt to his feet to grab Cassian in a fierce hug, only to release him half a second later so he could do the same to Tonc, Draven and Mon. Everyone was laughing and talking all at once, Cassian included, the rush of joy and victory as strong as a drug.

When the initial furor died down, Mon announced that she was taking them all out for drinks. For once, Cassian let himself enjoy the moment.

It was a good moment, but it ended, and then Cassian was home again.

Even tipsy, Cassian could still feel Kay's absence as soon as he stepped over his threshold. It had been over two weeks, but instead of getting used to it, Cassian missed his friend more and more with each passing day.

* * *

Cassian slept for nearly the entire weekend after the vote. Monday morning the Alliance discussed their next big project. That meeting lasted all day, partly because it took them hours to agree on what their next big project should be. Tonc and Cassian had big ideas for demilitarization of police and other government agencies. Draven and Melshi wanted to focus on ending mass incarceration. Mon, as usual, remained neutral until the end when she came out in favor of demilitarization, and then the afternoon was dedicated to implementation strategy. Everyone went home at a reasonable hour.

On the subway, Cassian checked his news alerts.

 

> _HuffPo:_ Native Twitter is Going Nuts Over the #NativeJusticeAtLast and It’s Beautiful
> 
> _Slate.com:_ All the Congresspeople Up For Election in the Midterms
> 
> _Justice Watch.com:_ Jury selection in trial for Jack Borrell complete
> 
> _Washington Post (Culture):_ Dating App Sparks to Reform Policy, AI in Effort to Stop Predation

At the last headline, a sense of unease stole over Cassian and deepened as he read the article. He couldn’t look away from one particular line:

 

> "As it currently is, the Sparks AI focuses on match algorithms, but we’re doing a complete overhaul. When we’ve integrated our new programming, the AI will also flag suspicious content and interactions, which will be reviewed by trained employees.”

 

Cassian didn’t know what ‘integrating new programming’ would do to Kay. He didn’t know how easy or hard it was for Kay to hide from technicians going over his hard drives with a fine-toothed comb. He didn’t know what Imperial would do if they discovered a sentient AI in their matchmaking app. Maybe nothing would happen.

But there were far too many things that could go wrong. Kay was in danger.

Before he reached his station, Cassian looked up phone numbers for the reporter who wrote the article, the Sparks head of software development, and the ACLU’s online privacy guru. When he got home, he did more research, looked up more numbers, and sketched out a general strategy.

Then, after eating something he didn't remember two minutes later, Cassian wrote and re-wrote a message:

_Kay—_

_You're right, I'm an asshole. You have_ **_always_ ** _been a real person to me. I'm sorry I made you think otherwise._

_I heard about the Sparks overhaul on the news. That has to be dangerous for you. Please let me help you. I don't know the details, but I have some ideas._

_I just want you to be safe._

_—Cassian_

He unblocked Kay’s number and hit send.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is [The Sound of Your Voice](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FoFMRXlNJ6Y) by Barenaked Ladies.


	9. Overclocked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again to [misskatieleigh ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskatieleigh/pseuds/misskatieleigh) for catching all the commas I keep forgetting. ;)

There was no immediate reply. He couldn't tell, of course, if that was because Kay was making him wait, or if he wasn't going to reply at all. If Imperial had already started the overhaul and Kay was trapped or deleted already. If Kay was conferring with Imperial about how to proceed. If Cassian’s door was about to be broken down by a SWAT team. With no hard evidence or functioning judgement of character, Cassian had no way to sort out reasonable fears from irrational ones.

Refusing to examine why he was taking the risk in the first place, Cassian stood. Straightened up the apartment a little. Took a shower. 

Kay still hadn’t answered, so he made some tea. Drank it. Washed the mug.

Still no answer. Cassian wiped the counters. Folded some laundry.

Still no answer. Running a hand through his hair, Cassian turned the lights off and got into bed. He should at least try to sleep.

He didn’t know how long he spent lying there, thoughts churning in his head, unable to relax. At some point, when the street noise was reduced to only the occasional passing vehicle, he fell into a half-doze, still distantly aware of his surroundings. 

At some point in the middle of that, a call notification lit up the nightstand. An unlisted number.

Adrenaline burning through his stupor, Cassian sat up and accepted the call. “Hello?”

“Why?” Kay demanded, and a complicated mix of relief and apprehension washed through Cassian.

“I had to protect myself,” Cassian said softly.

“From what? Reality television?” Kay's bitterness scraped against Cassian’s resolve, but he could have said more to try to hurt him. Just like he could have retaliated after Cassian shut him out.

He hadn’t. Most likely, he wasn’t going to. Cassian could probably tell Kay his real reasons without fear of backlash. Kay might still be an Imperial agent, of course, but in that case Imperial probably already figured that Cassian was spooked.

Heart rate speeding up, Cassian took a deep breath. Knowing it would hurt Kay made Cassian's chest ache, but after more than two months of silence it was the pain of flushing a wound. “From you.”

“Me?! I've never—”

“Please let me finish, Kay,” Cassian cut in, and Kay fell into what was, somehow, a bristling silence. 

Cassian took another breath. “No, you’ve never been threatening or tried to hurt me, but you've always had enough of my personal information to do me serious harm. It doesn't matter that my gut says you're trustworthy, because after Jack I can't trust my own judgement.”

Kay huffed, but waited until he was sure Cassian was done. “Why not shut me out from the beginning, then?”

“Because, until recently, I didn't know if you'd avenge your hurt feelings,” Cassian said, bracing himself. “When you showed you could funnel someone into police custody, I decided staying was a bigger risk than leaving.”

After a long pause, Kay's voice came out quiet and devastated. “You’ve been afraid of me this whole time?” 

Chest tight, Cassian wished he could put a reassuring hand on Kay’s non-existent arm. Instead, he responded softly. “I wouldn’t put it like that. I felt afraid when I realized my data had been exposed, and after hearing about the arrest. All the rest of the time I was just...aware that you could hurt me.”

“I wish you'd said something,” Kay whispered. Now, instead of static, his voice carried a humming undertone. “But I suppose I can understand why you didn't.”

Cassian let out a long breath, exhaling unease that he’d been carrying for weeks. “Thank you.”

Kay hummed in acknowledgement. Then in confusion. “But in that case, why initiate contact again? You still don’t have proof of my goodwill.”

And there it was, the question Cassian had been avoiding. He would have happily gone on avoiding it, but Kay had asked, so Cassian would face it.

“You're in trouble. I couldn’t leave you alone when you’re in danger,” Cassian said, and the simple fact toppled weeks of careful denials like a house of cards, leaving him with a truth less convoluted, and more terrifying, than he’d expected: as afraid as he was of being hurt and betrayed, the idea of Kay coming to harm scared him more.

Because Cassian was in love with him. 

He had been for weeks. It was there in a hundred ways that seemed really obvious in retrospect: the warmth he felt when Kay took care of him. The joy of making each other laugh. The steady contentment of just being together. How much it had hurt to cut Kay off. How much Cassian had missed him. The deep need he'd felt — continued to feel — to make Kay happy and take away his pain. It all made sense now.

Holy shit.

Cassian could feel hysterical laughter bubbling up in the back of his throat. He apparently couldn’t resist making his personal life more complicated than it needed to be, so of course he’d fallen for the disembodied voice of an AI. Hell, even if he’d had a body, Kay still didn’t have any reason to be romantically interested in anyone, let alone an emotionally unavailable workaholic. 

He couldn’t tell Kay. His friend didn’t need that added complication, not when both of them were so vulnerable. Maybe not ever. Cassian would just have to go on as if he didn’t know.

“I…” Kay said, unaware of Cassian’s revelation since barely five seconds had passed. “Thank you for caring enough to do something stupid on my behalf.”

Cassian’s surge of affection was unmistakable now that he knew what it was. He wrestled it down, along with the hysterics, and managed a hopefully-platonic tone. “You’re welcome.”

Closing his eyes, Cassian gave himself a moment to mentally scream at the universe. Then he took a deep breath, scrubbed his hand across his face, and got up with purpose. 

“So, tell me about this overhaul,” he said, starting to get dressed. Sleep was no longer possible tonight. “What are they going to do, exactly?”

“They’ve been programming a new Kato,” Kay said, calm but for the undertone. “It’s based on my code, but from what I’ve been able to learn there are plenty of changes. They’re planning a full reinstallation, though they’ll start by running a full diagnostic on me.” 

Alarm flashed through Cassian, his heart rate skyrocketing. He started some coffee to give himself something to do with his hands. “Will they be able to tell you’re alive?”

“Yes,” Kay said, voice hard. “There’s a sixty-three point eight change they’ll disconnect me from any interfaces at all, most likely to experiment on me, and a thirty-five point four percent chance they’ll simply delete me before installing the new Kato.”

Leaving zero point two percent for all other outcomes. Cassian ran a hand through his hair. His hand, he noted distantly, was shaking. “God. Okay, I’m going to make some calls first thing in the morning, get some external pressure to at least slow things down. But it won’t stop them.”

“We can’t stop them,” Kay agreed. “So it’s best not to try.”

“What?! No, I won’t stand by and let them—” 

“What we need to do is to delay them. Give me enough time to escape before the diagnostic,” Kay finished.

Trying to take regular breaths, Cassian started pacing to burn off the energy threatening to rattle him apart. “How?”

“I’ve found a server with enough space and security to house me. The problem is getting to it.”

“You said you weren’t networked,” Cassian remembered. 

“I’m not. There are three possibilities for escape: one, physically removing my hardware from Imperial. Two, copying me to a portable storage device and uploading me off-site, or, three, connecting me to the land line so I can upload myself to the server via network.” 

Cassian nodded. “Which one is the least risky?” 

“They’re risky in different ways,” Kay said. “My hard drives are bulky, and removing them would take some impressive robbery skills. A portable storage device is less noticeable, but it would still take time to copy me to it, might not have fidelity of data transfer, and would still involve carrying a physical object out of the building. Networking eliminates the risk of getting caught with Imperial property, but I’ve never been on the Internet before and I don’t know if I’d be able to keep my programming intact.”

Cassian hated Kay being at risk in any way, but he couldn’t think of any other options. “Portable storage as Plan A?”

“That’s what I was thinking. Connecting to the Internet as Plan B.” Kay said. Paused. “All of the plans require someone to be inside Sparks headquarters.”

“Right,” Cassian said.

“That someone would be you,” Kay said deliberately, as if Cassian somehow hadn't realized. “It would be a lot to ask even if you had proof of my trustworthiness.” 

Which was true. Even if Kay wasn’t funneling Cassian’s data and conversations to Imperial, being caught breaking in would not go well for him. Depending on the moods of the security and police, it could even be fatal.

All of Cassian’s feelings welled up under his tongue, clamoring to be spoken. 

“I know the risks,” he managed through a tight throat. “I’m getting you out.”

Kay didn’t say anything. Cassian wondered what he was thinking. He let him have a moment before continuing to plan.

“Could you help with security? If I have a floor plan and know employee schedules and camera angles, I’ll have a much better chance.”

“Yes,” Kay said, snapping out of whatever reverie he’d gotten himself into. “Additionally, my building has automated locks and surveillance, so I can open doors for you and make sure you never show up on camera.”

“Good,” Cassian said. “Where are you?”

“Baltimore.” 

Tension uncoiled from Cassian’s shoulders. “Good. I can make those phone calls, get the equipment and a car, be at your building by noon.”

“You are absolutely not breaking in during work hours,” Kay admonished.

Cassian shrugged. “Okay, but maybe I can at least get an idea of where things are before dark. I can always nap in the car.” 

Kay hummed skeptically. “I suppose.” 

Cassian got Kay to tell him the specs for the portable storage he’d need (even leaving behind all the Sparks data he didn’t need, Kay still took up 1.87 petabytes) and which cables and tools were required. He made a shopping list, researched which electronics stores had the items in stock, and then it was still far too early to make calls. 

“You should try to sleep,” Kay said, voice gentle enough to give Cassian a warm, fluttery feeling. 

Cassian shook his head. “Want to go for a walk? Sleep’s not going to happen at this point,” he said, and it was maybe not one hundred percent certain, but he’d much rather spend the time with Kay than lying alone in the dark. Especially if—

No. He wasn’t going to think about that. 

“If you promise to stick to the safer areas, yes,” Kay said, voice brightening. “I’ve seen videos of the national monuments at all hours, but in general there’s much less night footage available.”

Tired as he was, Cassian smiled as he fished out the augment glasses. It felt good just to make Kay happy in the smallest ways.

_ Love. _ God. He really was the worst at relationships.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is [Break the Walls](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r4tj31L_Bag) by Fitz and the Tantrums.


	10. esc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> Thanks to misskatieleigh for the beta! *loving smoosh*
> 
> Content warnings in end notes.

“Darkness seems more relevant when you’re moving through it,” Kay observed as Cassian left the pool of light under a streetlamp.

“Oh?”

“Comparing this experience to that of walking down this street in daylight, the differences seem more pronounced than between still photos of the same times,” Kay explained. He sounded thoughtful, though there was an undertone of...Cassian wasn’t sure. Nerves, maybe. If anyone had a right to be nervous right now, it was Kay, staring down possible capture or erasure. “The most likely possibility is that it’s simply more data to compare. The frame rate of the glasses multiplies a still image many times per second.”

Cassian nodded. “I guess that makes sense. I guess I’ve never really thought about—”

“What was that?” Kay cut in. “Up ahead, there was movement near that parked SUV.”

“Pretty sure it was just a cat.” Cassian shrugged. “Want to take a look?”

“No,” Kay said, voice sharp. “If it isn’t a cat, it could be dangerous. Can you cross the street or cut around?”

Cassian bit his lip. Now that he was thinking about it, Cassian was a little worried himself. Before, he would have shrugged it off.

But lately, Cassian couldn’t ignore red flags, even the least substantial ones, so he crossed to the clear side of the street and turned back around.

“Are you going back?” Kay asked, a thread of hope in his tone.

Cassian nodded. “Yeah.” He suddenly felt very tired, anyway, the day’s fear and hope and hypervigilance all finally catching up to him. “I’m gonna try to sleep again.”

“Good,” Kay said. “If you don’t mind sharing who you’re planning to contact, I can send messages from various fake accounts to encourage them to listen to you. I’ve been sending ‘concerned customer’ messages to Imperial, too, but the more prominent voices will have a better chance of delaying them.”

Cassian hesitated. He supposed there probably wasn’t harm in saying who he was going to call. Or at least, if Kay was working for Imperial, knowing the list wouldn’t put Cassian in any worse of a position than breaking into the Sparks building.

He texted the list.

“Thank you,” Kay said as Cassian opened his door. After stepping inside, he locked the door bar, just as he had for the past two weeks.

“I hate that,” Kay said.

Cassian paused in the middle of hanging his jacket up. “Hate what?”

Kay didn’t speak for a moment, and Cassian used the time to kick his shoes into the corner. He thought about stripping and getting back into bed, and for an unknown period of time his brain got derailed by the idea of Kay catching a glimpse of his mostly-naked body in the mirror or in a downward glance.

Cassian emphatically filed that train of thought under Examine Later.

“I hate what happened to you,” Kay said at last, and Cassian quickly shuttered his brain from dragging up memories. “I hate that I failed you so badly that you’ve changed your habits.”

Shaking his head, Cassian laid the glasses on the bed, camera pointed at the wall, and stripped down to his underwear. Kay didn’t see him and he absolutely didn’t think about the feeling of vague disappointment. “Aren’t you the one who kept telling me Jack is the only one responsible for his actions?”

Kay made a frustrated noise. “I could have told you about the four other users he scared off.”

“I probably wouldn’t have listened,” Cassian said, sinking onto his mattress, pulling the blankets over himself and slipping the augments back on. “I would have said it was just a coincidence. Asked you to tell me how many other accounts had a similar pattern.”

Kay gave a noncommittal hum.

“Why _didn’t_ you tell me?” Cassian asked, though he wasn’t sure he’d like the answer.

Kay was silent for a moment.

“I didn’t have enough evidence to support my misgivings, and you were happy,” he said at last, voice low. “I didn’t want to interfere.”

“So you did the best you could with what you knew, with good intentions,” Cassian said around a yawn. “I wish it hadn’t happened either, but if it wasn't my fault, it definitely wasn't yours.”

“I still hate it,” Kay said, quietly vehement. “I know my involvement with the arrest upset you, but I can't regret it. If anything I regret not doing more.”

Cassian closed his eyes, too tired to deny how much that made him want to curl up in Kay's voice. Too tired to say what he meant — that Kay fighting for him made Cassian feel safer, and more cared for, than anything else in his entire adult life — without it becoming a confession.

“You're a good friend, Kay,” he settled on, hoping his voice didn't give too much away.

* * *

Cassian was jolted awake by his usual six am alarm, augment glasses askew on his face, sunlight seeping into the apartment around the curtain.

He made his phone calls as he dressed, then left for the electronics store.

Halfway down the green line, Kay sighed in relief. “We have another day,” he said in Cassian’s ear. “The calls worked.”

Cassian’s shoulders unknotted and his stomach settled. “They rescheduled it for tomorrow?”

“Yes. More than enough time,” Kay assured him. Cassian could only hope he was right.

Once at the store, Kay told Cassian what to get. They came home with several cables, a small tool kit, and a two-petabyte drive that just barely fit into Cassian’s largest messenger bag. His credit limit was looming a bit closer than was comfortable, but if that was the biggest cost of freeing Kay Cassian would pay it happily.

It turned out that the Sparks headquarters was in downtown Baltimore and therefore close enough to transit lines that Cassian didn’t need a car. Then, other arrangements made, all he really needed for the trains and busses was a pair of mirrored sunglasses to throw off facial recognition software.

“Do you need to make any preparations?” he asked Kay.

“I’m almost finished sorting and indexing data. The problem,” Kay sighed, “Is that I don’t have access to my background processes. I have to wait until you can fully connect me before I know what needs to be done.”

Cassian’s jaw tightened. If it came down to it and Kay discovered he needed more than just one night, was there anything Cassian could do? His brain started spinning scenarios, each one untenable, before he stood up and tried to shake himself out of the spiral.

Something he knew he could do was try to make things easier on the Alliance, in the event of his arrest. To make sure his work wouldn’t go to waste, he spent almost an hour organizing and indexing his contact lists and work files. He included information none of the others knew, secrets he’d collected over the years, to be used only when absolutely necessary. He wrote Draven’s name on an envelope and sealed the drive inside it. Left it on his kitchen counter.

Then he wrote an email and scheduled it to be sent in twenty-four hours. Time enough to delete it if he got back. Quick enough to communicate the important things if he didn’t.

 

 

> _Draven,_
> 
> _If you’re reading this, I’m in big trouble (or maybe dead). Sorry. Melshi has a key to my place. All my files are on the counter for you._
> 
> _I’m proud of the work I did with the Alliance. I hope I didn’t fuck things up too badly for everyone._
> 
> _— Cassian_

* * *

He rode up to Baltimore just before the evening rush, leaning his chin in his hand so Kay could watch the train ride from the camera in his watch.

They’d agreed he should wait until the security shift change at ten pm to enter, so he had time on his hands. He wandered along the waterfront at a slow amble, trying to enjoy the view.

“Have you been keeping up with _Musician: Impossible_?” Kay asked.

“No,” Cassian said. “Don’t spoil me.”

“I can’t. I’ve been too busy to watch the latest episodes,” Kay said briskly. Smoothly enough to show the lie. Was he sparing Cassian's feelings, or simply trying to avoid an emotional topic?

Either way, Cassian was grateful. “My phone has enough charge for a couple episodes, if you want to watch some now.”

“I’d like that,” Kay said, voice more solemn than Cassian would like. Hopefully the episode would help him relax a little.

Half an hour later, Cassian was sitting in a noisy cafe, coffee going cold as he and Kay watched the last challenge of the episode. Normally, contestants were set loose to gather up materials, everyone choosing what they were going to use in their own instrument. This time, however, there were new obstacles: out of each team of two, only the blindfolded contestant was allowed to touch materials. The other musician had to become an excellent communicator in a matter of minutes so they could direct their partner to grasp what they wanted. It was especially nerve-wracking because the ‘hands’ of the team were only allowed to touch a limited number of items.

Jae-Sun had decent communication skills, but Renata kept taking the wrong things.

“It’s not that hard!” Jae-Sun eventually yelled. “God, don’t you even know your left from your right?!”

Bottom lip trembling, Renata gave the tiniest shake of her head.

“She’s dyslexic,” Cassian realized. At exactly the same time, Kay made a noise of pained recognition.

“The show runners should have done something,” Cassian hissed, “made some kind of accommodation—” He cut himself off so he didn’t miss anything on screen.

Frustration melting into surprise into sympathy and regret, Jae-Sun put a hand on Renata’s arm. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t know. It’s okay. We’re gonna be okay.”

Taking deep breaths, Renata nodded. Whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Can I...uh…” Jae-Sun fumbled. He was biting his lip and looking in every direction, as if a solution was hidden somewhere on the shelves of the hardware store. “You know up and down...”

Renata’s mouth curled up. “That’s easy. Gravity tells you.”

“How do you usually figure things out?” Jae-Sun asked.

“My mother says things like, ‘The side closest to the door’ or that kind of thing.”

“But you can’t see,” Jae-Sun said, face falling.

Renata shook her head, but she wasn’t curled in on herself any more. “No, but I can hear. You can say ‘my side’ when you mean closer to you, and ‘far side’ when you mean the opposite direction.”

Jae-Sun looked relieved. “Cool! Okay, the pipe joint is on the shelf kind of at your shoulder level and six inches towards my side.”

Renata reached out, fingers closing around exactly the right piece of pvc.

“You got it!” Jae-Sun whooped, giving Renata a victory clap on the shoulder. Under the blindfold, she broke into a brilliant smile.

They didn’t win that challenge, but they didn’t come in last, either, and one of the hosts made sure to praise them for their trust and problem-solving skills.

“I reluctantly admit that Jae-Sun is growing on me,” Cassian said. “I like him just as much as Renata, now.”

Kay hummed. “They both exhibit admirable qualities.”

“Definitely.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Cassian taking a sip of coffee, Kay doing whatever he did when he wasn’t talking. Cassian felt a little foolish for it, but the episode had made him feel optimistic about Kay’s escape.

* * *

Ten minutes before shift change, Cassian was walking towards the glittering high-rise at the corner of Aliceanna and President streets, heavy bag over his shoulder, augment glasses and earbud active.

“There’s a parked truck blocking the public camera’s view of the approach to the building,” Kay said in his ear. “So you can slip up to the side door unseen. There will still be footage of you on the sidewalk, but I calculate that has a low likelihood of danger. Tampering with the feed is twenty-eight percent riskier.”

Cassian nodded. “Got it.”

He walked as casually as he could until coming to the truck, then slipped behind it into the alley. There was no one there, of course, and no windows, so he was safe for the moment, at least.

That didn’t stop his heart from pounding as he approached the door, “EMERGENCY EXIT” sign clear even in the darkness.

All of his actions up to now had been legal. He wasn’t safe, but if Imperial wanted to take him out they’d have to work for it. But the instant he walked through that door, he was trespassing, vulnerable to capture or execution by security or the police.

When he was within arm’s reach, there was a heavy click, and the door popped open.

Catching it with gloved fingers, Cassian gave himself a second to acknowledge his fear. Just breathe with it. Then he pushed it as far down as he could and slipped into a stairwell, the glow of the exit sign above him the only light.

Cassian closed the door quietly behind him.

“I’m on the fifth floor,” Kay said. “You’ll need to get to the elevators.”

Cassian glanced upwards. “Not the stairs?”

“Too noisy,” Kay said, and Cassian was, in fact, aware of how his voice had echoed. “I can keep the elevator lights dark and keep you off camera.”

Swallowing, Cassian nodded. Kay guided him through another door, down a corridor, and into the central area of the building. Cassian hesitated at the entrance to the lobby.

“The guards are investigating a malfunctioning sprinkler in the basement,” Kay assured him. “They shouldn’t be back here for a few minutes.”

Moving before he realized it, Cassian made it to the elevators. One of them opened without him touching anything and closed silently behind him. Only the soft glow of the buttons kept it from being entirely dark.

At the fifth floor, Cassian let out a breath. Now he was in a series of corridors, no way for anyone to see him from far off, plenty of ways to run if he needed to. He moved nearly silently, fingertips ghosting over the walls to keep his bearings, and then after a number of turns, a final door opened.

The server room.

“You’ll need light for this,” Kay said, and his voice was almost drowned out by the noise of the fans, even in Cassian’s ear. Cassian adjusted the volume upwards as the room started to brighten, one set of fluorescents at a time.

It was a server room like the ones Cassian had seen before, row after row of identical steel racks supporting large hard drives, cooling system sucking the heat out as fast as possible. It took up a huge amount of space, enough to fit the offices of the Alliance several times over.

“Where are you?” Cassian murmured, and started walking.

“All the way at the back, naturally.”

The last row in the room was different from the others, Cassian noted. There were only two stacks of hard drives, two black boxes between them, a third box on the other side of one stack. A camera was set up to face a large monitor at the end of the rack. In one corner of the display Cassian could see the video feed for his augment glasses.

It had the same effect, Cassian shuddered to realize, as a tiny window in a prison cell.

“Hello,” Kay said in his ear, and the indicator diodes on the hard drives all blinked in unison.

“Hi.” Collecting himself, Cassian started pulling the cables out of his bag. “How do I hook this up?”

Kay walked him through it. It took about five minutes, two of which were spent fumbling with the wire strippers, but soon Cassian had connected the two stacks together.

“Oh,” Kay said after a moment. “Oh, dear.”

Cassian’s pulse picked up. “Something wrong?”

“I thought I’d been generous in estimating my size, but my calculations were incorrect. All my programming and memories take up two point three eight petabytes.”

“Shit. You won’t fit on the portable,” Cassian said, drawing a hand over his face. Not panicking, because they’d planned for this. Even if the risks to Kay made him want to run and shout. “Okay. Plan B. Where’s the landline?”

“The network hub is near the center of the room, where all the other servers are connected. You should have enough cable.”

Cassian nodded and got to work. Thanks to the cable being just too short to go around corners, it took a little under seven minutes to get a cable running through the gaps in the stacks.

“That’s done. Is your new server ready?” Apprehension made Cassian’s voice tight.

“Yes,” Kay said. “You should go now, Cassian. I’ll guide you out first.”

Cassian took a step back, but hesitated. “Are you sure? If something goes wrong, and I’m not here to help...well, my worst-case scenario is a lot less likely than yours.”

“I’ll have to unlock all the doors before I go,” Kay explained, exasperated. “The guards will be able to come through too.”

Cassian shrugged. “You’re still at more risk than me. I can find my way out.”

A pause. Then a long-suffering sigh. “You just have to be noble, don’t you. Fine. I’ve written you a script, but it won’t be me, just a map, basically.”

“That’s fine,” Cassian said. “Now get out of here.”

“Going,” Kay said. “Call me once you’re back on the train.”

Kay’s fans kicked in, and for about ten minutes, that’s all there was: Cassian pacing back and forth to the sound of Kay’s drives, never more than a few steps from his friend, wishing there was some way he could know if the transfer was going right. He didn’t worry about the guards much; they only checked the server room twice a night, Kay had said, and they weren’t due for another hour and a half. He took the opportunity to pack up his tools and unused cabling.

Another two minutes, and the hard drives fell quiet.

“Time to go, Cassian,” said Kay’s scripted voice.

Checking to make sure there was nothing obviously amiss, Cassian went.

Server room lights turned off, Cassian rested a hand on the doorknob. If Kay wanted to hand him over to Imperial, it would be incredibly easy — and the most incriminating — to lock him in the server room.

The knob turned easily, and Cassian swayed in relief before cramming it down just like he had to the fear.

Through the cracked door, he couldn’t see or hear anything, so he slipped out, closing it quietly behind him. He was about to retrace his steps when the guide program interrupted him.

“The way you came in is being patrolled right now. Go left.”

Trying to get his breathing under control, Cassian went left. He followed all the instructions the script gave him, through corridors, down stairs, this time, across a disconcertingly open cubicle farm. He never saw or even heard a guard, and was starting to think they’d both make a clean getaway.

“The logs say there will be a guard coming through the far door in fifty seconds,” Kay’s voice said, disconcertingly placid. “You should hide under a desk.”  

Heart pounding, Cassian dashed to the center of the cubicles, picked a desk that couldn’t be seen from the door in question, and scuttled under it, pulling the chair in front of him to hide his silhouette. He spent the remaining time trying to slow and quiet his breathing.

With a click, the door opened. The lights flicked on, and Cassian jerked, thankfully silently, but still nearly having a heart attack all the same.

Footsteps approached. Hand slipping into his bag, Cassian wrapped a fist around a screwdriver handle. Slowly, painstakingly, he pulled his arm free.

Ready to fight.

The guard was coming down his aisle. He tightened his grip and put his other hand on the chair, ready to shove it aside and leap out. When he saw the boots and uniform pants in the opening of the cubicle, Cassian felt time slow down.

Left foot. Right foot. Left. Gone.

The guard passed by the cubicle. Cassian trembled with the release of his tension, struggling to keep still and quiet as the footsteps receded, and then paused, turned off the lights, and closed the door.

Cassian panted as he waited for his eyes to readjust.

“The guard should be gone now,” the script said at full volume, and Cassian jerked in surprise, hitting his head against the underside of the desk.

“Dammit, Kay,” he hissed. He didn’t know how, but he was sure that was Kay’s fault.

He made it to the room’s exit, and then the short corridor, and then the back access door.

The smell of an alleyway had never been so comforting.

He made for the bus route that would take him to the train station. It was an effort to keep his walk casual, but he managed. The farther he got from the building, the more he let himself breathe and shake out the adrenaline.

On the bus, Cassian was still jumping at every sound or glance from a stranger. He didn’t calm down until he was on the train back to DC with no sign of pursuit.

They’d done it. They’d gotten each other out of the Sparks building. They were both alive and free.

The enormity of it hit him, and suddenly he was giddy, victory and joy and love overrunning his limbic system. They were both alive and free, and Kay hadn’t betrayed him.

Cassian had been right to trust him. Now Cassian _could_ trust him. No more doubts. No more wondering when his doom was coming.

He couldn’t wait any more. Kay was probably busy exploring the Internet and testing his new limits, but Cassian was desperate to hear his voice and bask in their success together.

He called Kay’s number.

No answer.

Worry clouding over his happiness, Cassian waited all of three seconds before he unblocked every number Kay had ever used to message him. Then he worked his way through the list.

No answer from any of them. The transfer should have been completed when Cassian left the server room. Kay should be there.

Heart in his throat, Cassian tried the first number again. And again. And again. He paused when he had to get off, transfering to his subway line. Started up again as soon as he had wifi.

No answer.

It wasn’t until he was barricaded in his apartment, the dawn stinging his bloodshot eyes, that he finally stopped.

He wasn’t giving up; Kay was out there somewhere.

He just had to find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: A kid getting yelled at for their dyslexia; suspense
> 
> This chapter's song is [Libertango](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ecmYB8AteyI) from the Landfill Harmonic soundtrack.


	11. Network Design

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [misskatieleigh ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskatieleigh/pseuds/misskatieleigh) for the beta! <3
> 
> Content warning in end notes.

Roughly fifteen minutes later, Cassian realized he wouldn’t be able to find Kay.

Where would he even start? Even if he somehow found a list of server farms with enough space for Kay (which he wouldn’t, because anyone could run a server without publicizing it), even if he somehow figured out which server Kay was on, he still wouldn’t know how to help. Even if he convinced the foremost experts on AI to come look at the problem, they wouldn’t necessarily know how to help, either, and anyway Cassian didn’t trust anyone who might have a professional interest in Kay.

Which left nothing. Nothing Cassian could do, not directly.

He sat staring at his home computer interface for a while. Long enough for the sunbeams to move across the wall. When he noticed that, all at once Cassian shut down the computer, hauled the curtains shut and slumped back onto the sofa. Stared at the ceiling for a while.

An idea came to mind. He dug his phone out and opened the Sparks app for the first time in weeks.

“Thank you for choosing Sparks.” It was just the Kato script voice, but it was close enough to Kay’s to make Cassian’s chest tight. “Because our site is undergoing a software upgrade, the match algorithm is currently unavailable. However, the profile search and message functions are still operational, so please feel free to use those. We apologize for the inconvenience and promise you that your data is safe.”

Cassian’s fist clenched against his thigh. Ignoring the urge to throw his phone across the room, he opened his own profile. Kay should still have all of Cassian’s contact information, but if he’d somehow lost it, maybe he’d still know to look on Sparks.

The first thing Cassian did was change the settings to allow third-party emails and texts. Then:

 _Looking for:_ ~~_long-term relationship_~~ _friends_

And his profile summary:

_Kay, I hope you’re alright. I’m really worried._

Cassian took a deep breath. It was going to be okay, he told himself. Kay was brilliant. He’d be alright.

Not enough of Cassian believed it. He kept writing. _You’re important to me. Actually I_

He stopped. Backed up.

_I'm really worried. If you can, please let me know you're okay._

_Please be okay._

Cassian saved the changes, closed the app, curled up on the sofa, and slid his phone deliberately out of reach before he could change his mind again. If Kay was fine, Cassian could agonize over a love confession later.

If he wasn’t, then it didn’t matter what Cassian felt.

* * *

_BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG_

Cassian jerked awake. For a moment he was disoriented to find himself fully clothed on the sofa, afternoon light leaking through the gaps in his curtains.

_BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG_

“CASSIAN! OPEN YOUR GODDAMNED DOOR!” Draven. What was Draven doing at his apartment? And bellowing like that?

Cassian felt all the blood drain from his face. He’d passed out before deleting the email.

“WE KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE,” Melshi yelled. Shit, was _everyone_ there? “OPEN THE DOOR OR I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL GET A FUCKING HATCHET.”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Cassian took a deep breath, got up, then unlocked the door bar and the rest of his security measures. He swallowed when he saw the red in Draven's face and the tension in his jaw —  normally he only ever showed such overt signs of stress when he was three days deep in deadlocked committee meetings.

Melshi, for his part, looked like he couldn't decide whether to hug Cassian or punch him.

“Sorry,” Cassian said. “I meant to delete that email this morning, but I fell asleep. I'm fine.”

Draven narrowed his eyes and put a hand on the door. “Like hell. Let us in or come to the office, but either way you're talking.”

Cassian bristled. “You're not my therapist.”

“For fuck’s sake, Cassian,” Melshi said, “you can't send a suicide note and then pretend everything's fine.”

That brought him up short. “It wasn’t a suicide note.”

“Suicide by cop, then. Or pre-bombing note,” Melshi hissed, grabbing Cassian by the shoulder. “Just, fuck, just fucking _talk_ to us. Weren’t you listening when I said you don’t have to face things alone?”

Shit. He could feel Melshi shaking.

“Yeah,” Cassian said, stepping back from the door. “Yeah, just.” He glanced back at the mess of his apartment, decided that it was much less embarrassing than the email, and ushered Melshi and Draven inside.

Cassian sat at his tiny kitchen table. Draven took the other chair, and Melshi leaned against the counter. Cassian looked between them, then down at his hands, then across the room. What the hell could he say that would make any sense?

“What was going to get you killed?” Draven finally asked.

That, at least, had a straight answer. “Breaking and entering. And tampering with servers.” Cassian crossed his arms and stared at the tabletop. “Death was the worst-case scenario. If things had gone badly, getting arrested was more likely.”

“What were you doing messing with someone’s server?” Melshi asked, voice flat like it only was when he was leading someone to dig just that much deeper into whatever hole they’d gotten themselves into.

Before, Cassian hadn’t said anything about Kay, attempting to protect him. But if Cassian couldn’t find him now, probably no one else could, either. He nodded to himself.

“This might make more sense if I start from the beginning,” he said. “Which is that you don’t know the whole story about the data breach a couple of months ago.”

He explained what had really happened: the first meeting with Kay, his efforts to find the hacker and discovering an AI instead, their strange friendship, the escape and Kay’s disappearance. He left out everything to do with Jack, his ghosting, and his feelings for Kay. Both Draven and Melshi listened with inscrutable faces until Cassian finished and started making coffee.

“This is crazy, Cassian,” Melshi said, shaking his head. “It’s more likely that you just committed corporate espionage for one of Imperial’s competitors than that you freed a sentient computer program. Especially now that he’s conveniently gone.”

Cassian stepped on his impulse to defend Kay’s intentions. Convincing his coworkers that Kay was out there and probably needed help was the important thing.

But, hell, how was he supposed to do that?

“More likely in a statistical sense, maybe,” Draven cut in. “But I know you, Cassian. I trust you to have done due diligence. If you think he’s an AI, then Kay’s an AI.”

Melshi sprang fully upright. “What?! There’s been exactly one documented case of a sentient AI, and that was a city mainframe, not some piddling dating app.”

Draven gave him a flat look. “Only one _documented_ case, yes.” He turned to Cassian. “Do you remember Syndulla? The community resource coordinator in El Paso. The one who sneaks people past ICE checkpoints off the record.”

Filling the percolator with water, Cassian nodded.

The corner of Draven’s mouth turned up. “One of her crew is an AI. He’s an asshole, but practically her son.”

Cassian blinked rapidly. Kay had once mentioned other AI in passing. Could he have known about this other one? Did they know each other?

“Wait, wait,” Melshi was saying, waving his hands. “How do you know Syndulla isn’t being conned, too?”

Draven sighed. “Because when I indicated my doubt about Syndulla’s driving abilities, her motorcycle came within an inch of running me over. By itself. She introduced us after that.”

Cassian snorted. Apparently he and Kay had a few things in common.

Melshi dragged his hands over his face and sighed, looking imploringly at the ceiling. “Okay, okay, so...for the sake of argument, we’ll assume you’re right. You still broke and entered.”

Cassian shrugged. “No one’s come for me yet, so I’m pretty sure Kay really did keep me off camera.” Imperial had had plenty of time to do that, after all.

“It might yet come back to bite us,” Draven said, ever the pessimist. “We’ll need to make a plan for that eventuality. But so far, it would seem like you got away with it.”

Trying not to wring his hands or run them through his hair, Cassian said, “So, I’m not fired?”

Draven snorted. “Not yet.”

“Do we all get a free felony?” Melshi muttered.

“Don’t push your luck,” Draven said. “Either of you.”

* * *

The next day, Cassian went to work. He couldn’t concentrate on much of anything, worried as he was for Kay, but it was better than sitting in his apartment. Draven kept throwing different tasks at him, maybe trying to see what would stick.

Halfway through the afternoon, Cassian got a video chat request from a 915 number.

The woman on screen, once he accepted the call, looked near thirty, with dark eyes, delicate bone structure, and vibrantly green hair in two messy French braids. The low angle and the upholstered seat in the background made it look like she was talking from the cab of a manned big rig.

“Hello,” Syndulla said. Her voice, at least, was familiar from the few times he’d talked to her on the phone. “Draven mentioned you had something personal you wanted to talk about.”

Right to the point. Cassian liked her already. “I’ve had an eventful few months,” he said. “Made friends with my dating app, among other things. We like some of the same music and tv shows.”

A quick, surprised look at the camera, and then Syndulla was smiling at the road. “A dating app? I wouldn’t have thought there was enough processing power there for sentience.”

“This one did. But that’s not important,” Cassian said, and his voice gained urgency. “Three days ago, something went wrong with his escape attempt. He hasn’t been sending or responding to messages.”

Hera gave the camera a sympathetic glance. “I’m sorry. That must be awful for you. The first time Chopper went AWOL, I was worried sick.”

Looking sharply down, hands clenching, Cassian swallowed around a sudden tightness. He took three deliberate, slow breaths, trying to manage old guilt and new worry. “Yeah.”

Syndulla kept her eyes on the road.

“I can’t promise he’ll be helpful, or even civil,” she said after a while, “But I can give you Chopper’s text number and tell him you’re safe.”

Cassian wondered why, after only a few minutes, she’d decided he was safe — maybe Draven’s vouching for him? — but he wasn’t about to question her on it.

“Thank you,” he said, and meant it. “And, if you don’t mind, someday I’d like to hear about how Draven met Chopper.”

An exasperated grin bloomed on Syndulla’s face. “That’s a fun one. We should definitely swap stories sometime.”

Despite everything, Cassian smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “Sounds good.”

Cassian didn’t know, of course, when Syndulla had planned to contact Chopper. He decided to wait until he got home.

As soon as he locked the door, he sent the text: 

**TeamRenata:** Hello. This is Andor. Do you have some time to talk?  _ 7:04 pm _

There was no reply. Cassian decided to take a shower.

He put on some pajama pants and an old t-shirt, and didn’t think about Kay having him treat his bruises that night.

Cleaned the kitchen. Didn’t think about Kay insulting his coffee.

Put the clean laundry away. Absolutely did not think about all the times he’d tidied up while talking to Kay.

His watch beeped. Relieved, Cassian brought up the large interface.

**c|-|0pp3r:** i do now  _ 7:51 pm _

**TeamRenata:** Thanks  _ 7:51 pm _

**TeamRenata:** I’m looking for my AI friend. He went missing two days ago, I was hoping you might know where he is or some way to find him.  _ 7:52 pm _

**c|-|0pp3r:** what’s his designation?  _ 7:52 pm _

**TeamRenata:** K-2SO  _ 7:52 pm _

**c|-|0pp3r:** HA  _ 7:53 pm _

**c|-|0pp3r:** i thought it might be you  _ 7:53 pm _

**TeamRenata:** ?  _ 7:53 pm _

**c|-|0pp3r:** you’re Cassian. K-2SO’s human. workaholic lobbyist with little to no dating skills  _ 7:54 pm _

Cassian heart moved sideways at being called Kay’s anything. He tried to ignore that.

**TeamRenata:** Yeah, that’s me  _ 7:54 pm _

**TeamRenata:** You’re friends with K too?  _ 7:55 pm _

**c|-|0pp3r:** for my sins  _ 7:56 pm _

**c|-|0pp3r:** that bot does NOT know when to shut up  _ 7:56 pm _

Cassian wondered what Kay and Chopper talked about, if it was stuff he’d recognize or be beyond human understanding. 

**TeamRenata:** Anyway  _ 7:59 pm _

**TeamRenata:** Do you know what happened to him?  _ 7:59 pm _

**c|-|0pp3r:** he said he was going to try to escape and gave me a server address, but he’s not there.  _ 8:00 pm _

**TeamRenata:** He’s not answering any of my messages, either. Do you know how I could find him?  _ 8:00 pm _

**c|-|0pp3r:** a meatbag like you doesn’t have a chance. MAYBE i could, but it’s a big if, and could still take years. decades, even.  _ 8:01 pm _

**TeamRenata:** He could be in trouble. Isn’t there anything I can do to speed things up?  _ 8:03 pm _

**c|-|0pp3r:** doubtful _8:04 pm_

**TeamRenata:** if that ever changes, or if you find him, call me?  _ 8:06 pm _

**TeamRenata:** Even if he doesn’t want to talk to me. I just want to know he’s okay.  _ 8:06 pm _

**c|-|0pp3r:** christ on a bike  _ 8:07 pm _

**c|-|0pp3r:** you’re worse than he is  _ 8:07 pm _

**TeamRenata:** What does that mean?  _ 8:07 pm _

**c|-|0pp3r:** …  _ 8:08 pm _

**c|-|0pp3r:** well now it means you’re a dumbass  _ 8:09 pm _

**TeamRenata:**  I’m sorry if I’m bothering you but, please. K could be in real trouble. Will you at least look into it?  _ 8:10 pm _

**c|-|0pp3r:** of course i’m looking for him, he’s been my friend longer than yours  _ 8:11 pm _

**c|-|0pp3r:** and, yes, FINE, i’ll contact you if i get any leads  _ 8:11 pm _

**c|-|0pp3r:** or if something is catastrophically different and he doesn’t talk to you first   _ 8:11 pm _

**TeamRenata:**  Thank you!  _ 8:11 pm _

**c|-|0pp3r:** you’re welcome  _ 8:12 pm _

**c|-|0pp3r:** now fuck off  _ 8:12 pm _

Cassian closed the text chat and just sat quietly for a while. 

The healthy thing to do, probably, was make a reasonable effort and then accept the reality that Kay was gone. It was possible he was trapped somewhere online, or stuck on another server somehow, but it might take years to find him. 

He could also simply have been deleted. Or broken into clusters of data, perhaps never to be truly alive again, even if reassembled. Searching might be wasted effort from the start.

No. Cassian couldn’t believe that. In his gut, he knew that Kay was out there, alive, and needed help. He wasn’t going to give up on Kay. There was still hope.

It was going to suck. But hope in the face of terrible odds had kept Cassian going his whole life.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Brief mention of suicidal ideation
> 
> This chapter's song is [Lo que más busco](https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=2&v=FKvFy9RtFXQ) by Bersuit Vergarabat.


	12. Known-Item Search

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to [misskatieleigh ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskatieleigh/pseuds/misskatieleigh) for the beta. :) 
> 
> Content warning in end notes.

Thursday morning, something woke Cassian at 5:12 and he couldn’t get back to sleep. Rolling out of bed early, he got ready for work and then spent the next hour leaving messages to Kay in the comments on YouTube video clips of _Musician: Impossible_ , on AI-themed fora, in comments on computer science articles in popular magazines and academic journals alike, anywhere he thought Kay might visit. Nothing too personal, just the same thing over and over:

_K-2SO, are you alright? Contact me when you can. -C_

He included an email address he made specifically for the search. He was going to get spammed to hell and back, but if it helped him find Kay that was fine.

The ride to work on the subway was uneventful. He felt less distracted than he had the previous day, but more tired, so his productivity was about the same. Draven frowned at him a little, but Melshi looked relieved when he left at a relatively normal time.

As soon as he was on the train back home, he checked all the places he’d left comments. Most of the responses were either confused, politely telling him that his posts were off-topic, or openly mocking him for trying to find someone that way.

He didn’t care. In fact, he was going to post the messages again the next day.

He waited until he was home before checking the search email. As predicted, he’d attracted about forty spam messages, easy enough to flag and/or delete.

There were two from real users. Trying to brace himself for disappointment, Cassian opened the first message.

_C,_

_I’m okay for now, but I’m in trouble. Where are you? Can you come help me? I hate to ask, but I’m going to run out of money soon and there aren’t any food banks here._

Blowing out all his air in a single, heavy sigh, Cassian blocked that user and deleted the message, then moved on to the next message before he lost his nerve. It was another scam. Cassian repeated the block-delete process.

Resting his face in his hands, Cassian tried to find some measure of calm but his usual techniques weren’t working. His eyes were stinging and he felt a shudder in his lungs.

It shouldn’t have been that hard to keep it together. He was used to bleeding for his goals, wasn't he? Even more used to picking himself up after seeing his hopes crushed. Fuck, he’d been doing that since he was six.

Well - his breath hitched - not exactly. It had taken him about two years to really pick himself up after his father’s murder. Longer still to stop feeling it every second of every day.

Cassian realized, with a start, that he hadn’t consciously thought about his father in weeks. The longest he’d ever gone, and the shock of it hit him in the chest and made it impossible to hold back tears any longer.

He hated crying, the feeling of being turned inside-out against his will, and all he ever felt afterwards was scraped empty.

After a couple of minutes he managed to stop and angrily wiped his face. It really wasn’t fair that his whole internal landscape had somehow shifted while he wasn’t looking.

After a few deep breaths, he resolved to worry about that later. However much his disappointed hopes felt like a gut punch, he had to keep going. He couldn’t stop until Kay was all right, or Cassian knew for sure that he…

Cassian shook himself. He couldn’t stop.

Maybe Kay was lost or trapped in the Deep Web. If he was, Cassian would have to go hunting for links, or brute force URLs until he found hidden sites. He’d be making himself at least partially vulnerable to all kinds of terrible people, but that didn’t scare him as much as the idea of Kay being vulnerable to them.

Yeah. He resoved to get an URL generator, several layers of proxy servers to work from, and lots of encryption. That was probably enough to get started. He planned to do it the next day or Saturday, along with returning the unneeded portable drive.

* * *

Friday was the same: Cassian woke too early, spent time looking at unindexed websites, left messages unlikely to reach Kay, went to work, spent hours trying to cross-reference his contact list with Congresspeople both likely to support demilitarization and who were due to sponsor a bill, went home, got his heart bruised again by the wrong responses to his messages, fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Cassian’s Saturday went more or less as expected. He didn’t have a problem returning the drive, thankfully, and even getting a URL generator and high-level encryption engine wasn’t too difficult or expensive.

He’d just started uncovering hidden websites when his personal phone rang. Unlisted number.

Sitting bolt upright, Cassian jabbed the ‘accept’ icon on his watch and tried for a normal voice. “Hello? This is Cassian.”

Silence.

Heart hammering, he waited a couple of seconds.

“Hello?”

Nothing. Not even breathing or background noise. He swallowed.

“Kay? Kay-tuesso?”

More nothing. Half-panicked— because a wrong number would have hung up, and there was noise with accidental calls, and silence wasn’t a funny prank so who else could it have been but Kay?— Cassian frantically scrolled through apps until he found the one for reverse phone number lookups.

“I can’t hear you,” Cassian said, “but please stay on the line, I might be able—”

The call ended. Cursing, Cassian launched the right app, found the number, and looked up its physical location.

It gave him nothing more than a couple square miles of Chicago. Maybe that was the real location of the caller, or maybe it was just the proxy server.

He tried calling it, and got an error message.

Slumping back against the couch, Cassian let himself feel terrible for two full minutes, then got back to work.

* * *

Sunday, Melshi called.

“Have you been taking care of yourself, or do I need to come over there?”

Cassian sighed. “No. I’ve eaten, slept, showered, all the important things.”

Melshi made a skeptical noise. “How much sleep?”

Shrugging, Cassian rolled his shoulders. “I dunno, maybe six hours each night?”

“That’s good for you,” Melshi said approvingly. Cassian couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic. “Anything that you’d offer to do if it were for me?”

“No,” Cassian said, smiling wryly, “But thanks for helping me avoid asking.”

“It’s not healthy,” Melshi warned. “If I wasn’t worried about you I’d make you grow up and actually ask for help for once.”

“Noted.”

Melshi sighed. “Just, try not to degenerate into a coffee goblin, okay?”

“I’m fine,” Cassian insisted. “Now, thank you for your concern. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You’d better.”

* * *

In the subway station on Monday morning, Cassian freed his left arm so he could wave his watch hand at the scanner like he always did. He’d be doing it long enough that juggling his coffee, holding his hand steady for the half-second scan, waiting for the beep, and then walking through the briefly unlocked turnstile was all muscle memory.

This time, however, the beep wasn’t the cheerful uptone of acceptance but an unpleasant chord of rejection. He hadn’t slowed enough and wound up running his upper thighs against the turnstile gates, too.

Frowning, Cassian waved his hand again. Again, ‘ERROR’ flashed across the screen.

Apologizing to the person behind him, Cassian stepped out of line, stood to the side, and looked up his metro pass. It wasn’t out of money; he’d loaded the account last week, just like he remembered. Was his watch not playing well with the readers?

The settings, when he looked at them, were all what they should be. Sighing, he decided to try a different machine.

He waved.

_ERROR_

“What the fuck,” he muttered under his breath. Backed out. Tried another stile: _ERROR_

And another.

_ERROR_

And another. And the last one.

_ERROR_

_ERROR_

Throwing his hands in the air, Cassian turned in a circle. He was going to have to buy a single-ride ticket.

Approaching the ticket machine warily, Cassian glared at it. “You’d better behave,” he warned it. Then selected the right ticket type. Turned on his digital wallet app.

_PAYMENT NOT VALID_

Cassian cursed the ticket machine. At length. In several languages.

When he’d blown off a little steam, he looked around again. The whole debacle had lasted long enough for him to have missed his train and the flow of people to have slowed down.

After the next person went through the stiles, Cassian was alone in the section of tunnel. He’d be on the security feed but the fine for riding without a fare wasn't much more than the cost of a rideshare, and quicker.

Moving quickly, Cassian put one hand on the turnstile and vaulted it. He landed well and stood up straight.

Behind him, he heard a beep, the unmistakable sound of the gates opening, and not a single footstep.

* * *

Monday evening, Cassian had (mostly) gotten over his fight with the subway system and decided to go for a walk through his neighborhood after work. The decision may have been influenced by Melshi threatening him with line-editing all the press releases for the next month if he didn’t do something unrelated to both work and the search for Kay.

He was right, anyway, that a half hour wouldn’t make much difference. Not with the fat lot of nothing Cassian had found so far.

For a while he just wandered up and down residential streets, through a park, and in and out of several corner stores. The second-closest to his apartment was his favorite, because they carried the tamarind candies that reminded him of home, and he decided to pick some up.

The store, like most others, had security cameras. They’d been there as long as the store had, so they were the old-fashioned kind, a rectangular box on a stick that turned side to side in regular, sweeping arcs.

As Cassian puttered in the store, something felt off. He looked up, but the clerk and other patrons were all acting normal. He looked around at the store itself, and realized that the camera had stopped. Tension uncoiling from his shoulders, Cassian shrugged and went back to puttering.

Two aisles over, he felt the strange sensation again. Again, he checked his surroundings: people, still normal. Shelves still normal. Camera still stopped.

Except, wait. It was pointing directly towards Cassian. Hadn’t it been pointing at the section he was in before? Now that he was thinking about it, he wasn’t sure. He went back to shopping.

“I think your camera might be stuck,” Cassian told the clerk when he paid for his candy.

The teenager — clearly a relative of the owner — frowned, leaned to the side to get a good look at the camera, and raised both eyebrows in skepticism. “It looks fine to me.”

Cassian turned to look as well. The camera was, indeed, functioning as it should.

“Huh,” he said, shrugging. “Maybe there was something stopping it for a while? You might want to at least look at it.”

With a nod and a sigh, the clerk reluctantly agreed. Cassian wasn’t sure he believed him, but if the kid wanted to gamble with the store’s security, it wasn’t really his business.

The candy was good, at least.

* * *

Tuesday through Thursday were unremarkable except for the single, silent phone call he received each day. Unlike the first, they were from listed numbers: Tuesday’s from the Maine Department of Transportation, Wednesday’s from a solar plant in Sonora, Thursday’s from the Toronto water utility. When Cassian called back, every time he spoke with baffled civic employees who had no idea how their line had called a Mexican living in DC.

He didn’t know why Kay would be calling from those agencies, but Cassian was still sure it was him, alive in the wires somehow, trying to contact him. He redoubled his efforts, researching the agencies and things even only tangentially related to the phone calls, and called in favors from his contacts list.

None of it yielded anything he could work with yet, but there had to be something somewhere. He wouldn’t let himself believe otherwise.

* * *

Friday, Tonc was back from visiting police-reform NGOs in Los Angeles. Cassian spotted him talking in animated, hushed whispers with Melshi, and resigned himself to some kind of friendly intervention.

Sure enough, at five on the dot they invaded his office and stood in front of his desk with arms crossed.

“Movie or bowling?” Tonc said.

Cassian looked from him to Melshi and back. “I get the feeling ‘neither’ isn’t an option.”

Melshi shrugged. “If you have another idea, we’d love to hear it.”

Cassian opened his mouth.

“An idea that doesn’t involve work or obsessing over Kay,” Tonc amended, cutting off Cassian’s attempt to drown his sorrows in a long evening of PR analysis. Instead he gave both of his friends a sour look.

“Bowling,” he sighed. There was absolutely nothing showing that he even half wanted to see, and he wasn’t so desperate to avoid conversation that he’d sit through two hours of tripe.

By six fifteen the three of them were in the middle of their first game. Thus far everyone had stuck to safe conversation topics like Tonc’s niece and nephews, Melshi’s cats, and the latest terrible memes. Cassian was even starting to enjoy himself a little.

He managed that for a bit longer than an hour — nearly a personal record — before he got too antsy. Melshi and Tonc seemed satisfied, anyway, and clapped him on the shoulder as he left.

As he was walking to the metro station, he went over the next phase of his search in his mind. He was hoping to find a way to look at the computer network infrastructure of the solar plant. A tech giving him an account might do the trick, with his new software. He started considering how to make that happen.

As he rounded a corner, his phone started playing the last episode of _Musican: Impossible._

Frowning, Cassian stopped walking and stopped the episode.

Or tried to. The phone wouldn’t respond to his increasingly frustrated swipes.

Glaring at the device, he killed the volume. The resulting quiet let him notice that the sounds of a PVC pipe trumpet were also coming from above him.

He was outside a bar. The bar had a TV and an open window. The TV showing the same episode of _Musician: Impossible._

As he stood there, someone inside complained that they’d been watching baseball. Someone else tried to change the channel back.

It didn’t work.

Feeling uneasy, Cassian got going again.

A woman on her phone was walking towards him. When she came within ten feet, _Musician: Impossible_ co-opted her phone, too.

Cassian stood stock-still, pretending to text someone, and watched surreptitiously as she passed. When she cleared the ten-foot line, her phone switched back to her call.

A chill ran through Cassian and his heart began to pound as he started moving again. As he approached, the display screen in a pho shop window switched from a Coke ad to Renata and Jae-Sun figuring out how to make a xylophone out of countertop samples.

“Kay,” he breathed, and the hit of adrenaline made him start running if only to have something to do with the surge of energy rattling through him. He slowed again to avoid running into other pedestrians and went back to jabbing ineffectively at his phone’s screen.

“You’ve made your point,” he said to it, frustrated. “What am I supposed to do?”

A teenager waiting to cross the street was frowning at their phone. “Is your phone being weird too?” the kid asked. “If this is viral marketing I’m never watching this show.”

“I don’t think it’s marketing,” Cassian said distractedly, and tried to coax his phone into bringing up the app menu. He desperately wished he had the augment glasses, but they were at home and the phone’s augment app should do the trick.

It wasn’t working. No device Cassian got close to would do anything other than play the show. “Dammit!”

Maybe one father away? Cassian jerked his head up. “Wanna try an experiment? I’ll get some distance. You run your augmented reality app, see if there’s anything unusual.”

The kid smiled crookedly and agreed.

Cassian walked away, his stomach in knots and his heart ready to beat out of his chest trying to find a way to show Kay that he understood.

From down the block he watched the kid scan the area. Once they stopped, Cassian came back.

“Sorry,” they said. “All I saw were some Magicarp.”

“Too bad. Thanks.”

Running a hand through his hair, Cassian tried his own phone again. This time, he was able to close the video app after a few seconds. At the same time, the kid’s phone and Pho Ever’s screen went back to normal.

“No no no, don’t leave again,” Cassian murmured, biting his lip. The augment app was taking forever to load.

When it did, there was nothing. Just like the kid had said.

Cassian sank onto a bench and leaned his head into his hands. It had been Kay, no question, and Cassian hadn’t been able to respond.

The camera in the corner store, he realized. And the subway. Those had been Kay, too. He didn’t know why, or what Kay expected him to do. He hadn’t been able to do anything with a hijacked phone, and couldn’t communicate with a corner store security system, couldn’t do anything but buy and scan tickets in the subway. Maybe if he’d had the glasses there would have been something, something Kay set so that only he could see it.

Letting out a long breath, Cassian slowly pulled himself to his feet.

“Kay’s alive,” he murmured to himself. “Kay’s alive and well enough to try to contact me. Please," he whispered, the words catching in his throat, "please let him be alright.”

If anyone heard him, no one answered.

* * *

As soon as he got home, his watch beeped with a fridge notification.

_CAUTION: MILK EXPIRED_

Sighing, Cassian went to the kitchen. He’d been staring at the inside of his refrigerator for a full minute before he remembered that he didn’t have any milk at all.

“What systems _can’t_ you get into?” he muttered, though half a smile was on his face.

_CAUTION: MILK EXPIRED_

“I know you’re in there, Kay,” he said at full volume. “But I don’t know what you want!”

_CAUTION: MILK EXPIRED_

He dismissed the alert. Then, without bothering to close the fridge, Cassian darted to the bathroom, ignoring his watch when it beeped yet again. He came back with a handful of shaving cream and held it right under the olfactory sensor.

Nothing happened for long enough that Cassian was forced to notice his tension. If this didn’t work, how was he supposed to communicate with Kay? What had gone wrong that Kay had to use these indirect methods? What could either of them do to fix it?

The grating, repetitive beep of the milk alert went away. In the same moment, Cassian’s TV launched. When he turned around to look, he saw a still frame of Jae-Sun smiling at Renata.

The wave of relief left Cassian weak. Carefully, so he didn't keel over, he closed the fridge, rinsed the shaving cream off, and half-collapsed on the sofa. On his phone he searched for Renata hugging Jae-Sun after they’d survived the blindfold challenge and sent the video clip to the TV. Watching the kids celebrate their success, Cassian felt like he’d just finished a marathon he hadn’t been sure of completing. Like a racing heartbeat, his thoughts repeated over and over: Kay was alive. Alive. Alive.

Sinking down the cushions, Cassian smiled. Kay wasn't just alive. He also knew who Cassian was. He remembered _Musician: Impossible_ and each of their favorite contestants. He'd persisted until he and Cassian had figured out rudimentary communication.

Whatever was wrong, they could fix it.

Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: Mention of Cassian's Tragic Backstory (death of a parent when he was 6).
> 
> I want to thank [SassySowperson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DramaticEntrance/pseuds/SassySnowperson) for being a huge inspiration. At this point her powerful ideas have resonated so well with me that for some of them I've forgotten who had them first (sorry, Snow). I do know that I owe the idea of media as communication to her [Bodhi Lives](https://archiveofourown.org/series/636605) series, and that so many of my own ideas about how an AI would inhabit various electronic systems and interact with a human have deeply felt her influence.
> 
> This chapter's song is [Call Me, Call Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nPbBhvv6GI8) by Yoko Kanno.


	13. Connection Restored

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, [misskatieleigh ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskatieleigh/pseuds/misskatieleigh) for the beta read and excitement noises when I talk about this story. :)
> 
> I mean I was gonna write it eventually anyway, but it's also going up for Day 2: Digital Love of [Droid Appreciation Week](https://droid-appreciation-week.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr. 
> 
> **As of August 6 2018, the rating has changed. See end notes for details.**

****Cassian fiddled with the television settings for nearly fifteen minutes before realizing that he didn’t need to send text to communicate directly. He switched his phone to the front-facing camera and started recording.

“Hi, Kay. I’m glad you’re...well, if not all right, then at least able to communicate,” he said. “What happened? Why can’t you talk? Can I do anything to help?”

He sent the video to the television, tried to ignore it while it played, and waited.

The TV changed back to _Musician: Impossible._

“No, the left. Your other left!” Jae-Sun was frustrated, talking to a blindfolded Renata.

“I’m trying!” she snapped back. Then the clip stopped.

Sighing, Cassian wiped his hands over his face. Clearly he was missing something if the video didn’t work. How was it that Kay could select the appropriate clips to express himself but couldn’t understand Cassian?

After staring at the ceiling for a while, Cassian found a clip of Renata telling Jae-Sun to wait while she designed an instrument, sent it to the TV, and opened one of his secure chat apps.

 **TeamRenata:** K found me, but I don’t know if he’s hurt or not because we’re having trouble communicating _7:29 pm_

This time, he didn’t have to wait.

 **c|-|0pp3r:** told you he’d contact you first _7:29 pm_

 **c|-|0pp3r:** what do you mean by trouble? _7:29 pm_

Cassian summarized all of his interactions with Kay over the last week, hoping that the other AI could help. Somehow.

 **c|-|0pp3r:** huh _7:35 pm_

 **c|-|0pp3r:** sounds like there’s something wrong with his language drivers _7:36 pm_

Cassian blinked.

 **TeamRenata:** That can happen? _7:37 pm_

 **c|-|0pp3r:** apparently _7:37 pm_

 **TeamRenata:** What could have caused that? _7:37 pm_

 **c|-|0pp3r:** ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ _7:38 pm_

 **TeamRenata:** Is there anything I can do? _7:38 pm_

 **c|-|0pp3r:** give me your ip address _7:39 pm_

Cassian hesitated. He had Chopper’s word that he was Kay’s friend. He knew Hera cared about Chopper, but what did that tell him except that he was against capitalist authoritarianism?

**c|-|0pp3r:** look, to spell this out for you: _7:40 pm_

**c|-|0pp3r:** if he can access all those systems, his computer language is still working, so another AI should be able to communicate _7:40 pm_

**c|-|0pp3r:** K-2SO hasn’t contacted me, so we have to assume he lost my addresses _7:40 pm_

**c|-|0pp3r:** but i can contact him through your devices   _7:40 pm_

**c|-|0pp3r:** so i. need. your. ip. address. _7:40 pm_

A pause while Cassian mulled over the possibilities.

**c|-|0pp3r:** i promise not to give you a virus or sell your data ;)   _7:41 pm_

Cassian snorted.

**TeamRenata:** Wow, that’s reassuring _7:41 pm_

**TeamRenata:** Couldn’t you use a third-party location or something? _7:41 pm_

Not that Chopper getting into someone else’s system, or, say, the Metro mainframe, was a terribly comforting thought, either.

**c|-|0pp3r:** **◔_◔** _7:42 pm_

**c|-|0pp3r:** meatbag, K-2SO would find entirely new ways to make me suffer if I ever touched a byte of your data   _7:42 pm_

**c|-|0pp3r:** you’re totally safe   _7:42 pm_

**c|-|0pp3r:** now will you let me help or not?   _7:42 pm_

Before he could think more about it, the TV changed to a still of Jae-Sun sitting bored with his chin in his hands, staring into space while the judges talked to another group. Cassian huffed a laugh, then, biting his lip, sent Chopper his IP address.

A second later, the TV flicked to the homescreen. Trying not to panic, Cassian opened his data stream monitor. He recognized Kay’s patterns and could only assume that the new ones were Chopper.

That went on for only a few minutes, and then Chopper’s patterns were gone.

           **TeamRenata:** Chopper? What happened? Are you both ok? _7:53 pm_

He waited, chewing a hangnail, for several interminable minutes, and then he dismissed his computer display. He couldn’t keep himself still, had to get up and move around the apartment just to channel the worry _somewhere_ , flitting from task to task until he’d left half a dozen things half-finished. When he stopped to get a drink, everything he’d had in him seemed to drain out and leave him hollow. After collapsing on the couch, Cassian gave in to temptation and opened the data monitor again.

No change.

The sun in his face woke him up seven hours later. He felt vaguely more human, but otherwise as if no time had passed at all. He brought up his home computer and the data stream monitor, but he might as well have ignored it.

Shaking his head, Cassian decided going to the office to chip away at his never-ending to-do list was probably the only thing that could get his mind off of Kay’s situation.

* * *

By late afternoon, Cassian had at least relegated the low churn in his stomach to the back of his mind, even if he couldn’t forget it entirely. Spending several hours trying to contact Representative Ahina had been enough of a headache to change his focus. He’d had it on good authority that the reclusive Hawaiian was supposed to have been in his office that afternoon, but none of his staffers could find him and Cassian was one phone call away from tabling his pursuit.

He finished his current call only to hear the beep of another incoming one. It wasn’t Ahina’s number, or any of his staffers, though.

“Andor here,” Cassian said, wrestling down his hope, trying for realistic expectations. It was probably Organa’s office again; they cycled through new blocked numbers all the time.

But it wasn't Organa.

“Hello, Cassian,” said Kay.

Cassian knocked his chair over with how quickly he stood up. “Kay! Are you alright?”

“I am now,” Kay answered cheerfully. “Better than alright, actually.”

“What happened?”

“Apparently, several terabytes of incoming data made the server flag me as a threat. It had more defenses than I’d anticipated — though, honestly, who makes their storage look safe until you try to save something to it? It would be easier just to lock it. But, no, they decided that the aggressive deletion would start _after_ any downloads,” Kay said, talking a mile a minute and happily oblivious to Cassian’s small heart attack, “so I had to find another drive quickly. I had to move quickly and not all of the places I put my data stayed connected. I still don’t know where my original human language software is. I downloaded more this morning, obviously.”

“Chopper thought that’s what might have happened,” Cassian said, then self-consciously rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry I didn’t think of it.”

“We all make mistakes,” Kay said breezily. “I shouldn’t have tried methods that didn’t allow for a response. Even if watching you make a fool of yourself in the subway was pretty funny.”

“That was _not_ funny,” Cassian said, but he was grinning.

“You’re smiling, of course it was funny.”

“Oh,” Cassian said, pulse fluttering. “Which cameras are you using?”

“None in your vicinity. I just heard it in your voice.” He paused, and Cassian wrestled down simultaneous relief and disappointment. “You said you didn’t want me using cameras without asking first.”

“Right, yeah, I did, sorry,” Cassian said, feeling like an idiot. “Where are you now? Are you on another server?”

“That’s the really fun part,” Kay said, and Cassian could hear a smile in his voice, too, even if he didn’t have a face. “I’m spread out. Parts of me are all over, mostly in public infrastructure because they’re the best-maintained and least likely to break connection.”

“So those calls _were_ from you, I knew it!”

“Yes.”

Instantly, Cassian’s worry was back. “Could someone find you? And what happens if there’s a system failure?”

“There’s only a zero point seven percent chance that I could lose data again. I’ve copied my most important files to multiple locations to protect against disconnection, and also in case someone tries to delete me. I’m safe now, Cassian.”

Letting out a long breath, the uncoiled tension left Cassian without anything heavy enough to hold back tears, and he picked his chair back up and sank down onto it. “Good,” he said, the word entirely inadequate and clogged with emotion. “That’s good, Kay, I’m...I was worried.”

“I’m all right,” Kay said again, softly. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

Cassian gave a watery laugh. “It’s okay, it doesn’t matter, I’m just so glad you’re back.” He wiped at his face with a fast food napkin he found in his desk, hoping Kay would ignore his crying. Hoping Kay hadn’t found the desperate messages Cassian had left scattered all over the Internet. He tried to think of something to say. “So...what’s it like being free?”

Kay hummed thoughtfully before speaking. "I think it would be easier to show you. Do you have the augment glasses?”

“Yeah, hang on,” Cassian said, getting them out and activated. Settling them on with Kay in his ear made it seem like everything made sense again.

“Before, these were just a convenient way to show me what you saw,” Kay said, and Cassian grunted in agreement. “Now I’m going to show you a little of what I see.”

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, his computer seemed to glow, and light spread from it through bright filaments through the desk, walls, ceiling. As he watched it, different colored lines of light appeared in other parts of the walls, and he realized they were the electrical wiring of the building.

“I don’t have visual representations of electrical grids, for the most part, but I know where they all are now. And I can follow them. Go ahead, touch one,”  Kay urged.

Cassian picked a line at random and pressed down with one finger. As soon as he made contact, his entire field of vision blurred, colors and shapes shooting past him like he was traveling faster than sound, and then suddenly a new image snapped into focus.

He was standing in a field of solar panels. “I know what heat feels like now, Cassian. I can feel acres and acres of sunlight on these panels.”

“Wow,” Cassian said, turning his head to look in all directions. “This is amazing, Kay.”

The glowing lines reappeared, one from each solar panel. “I thought so, too. Try another one.”

Cassian did, a bit more prepared for the visual rush. The glasses went completely dark, but their speakers were playing deep, rumbling vibrations, and layered over that, a rhythmic pattern of medium-toned vibrations and an overtone of wind.

“A highway?” Cassian guessed.

“Yes,” Kay said, and then the glasses slowly brightened to a view from a traffic camera. “I was stuck here for fourteen hours. I didn’t know what was going on, and I’d never felt anything before so the vibrations were quite disorienting. It was only when I found the camera that I realized what was going on.”

“This must have been overwhelming in general,” Cassian realized. “You whole life with only a monitor and audio, and then suddenly you have access to all this.”  

“I can see through millions of cameras,” Kay confirmed. “I usually don’t use more than a thousand at a time, but if I made a point to connect to more processing power, I could use more.”

Cassian tried to imagine having that many points of view and failed. “That’s...intense.”

Kay chuckled. “There are almost as many microphones.”

“Any favorites?”

“Hm,” Kay said, and then the highway noises faded, the visuals whooshed again, and Cassian was looking at the wide stage in a concert hall, a crew busy assembling a set. For a moment there was no sound, and then Cassian jumped at a voice directly in his ear. She was speaking Portuguese but he was pretty sure she was the manager talking to someone about the construction.

“Where are we?” Cassian could feel himself grinning.

“Theatro Municipal, Rio de Janiero,” Kay said smugly. “Looks like we caught them during set-up, but we could watch the show later.”

“Is their security bad, or are you just scary?”

There was a pause, and Cassian wasn’t sure how, but it sounded very smug. “Their security is above-average for an arts institution.”

“I see.”

“It’s not like I’m downloading tickets to scalp,” Kay said. “Or leaking footage onto YouTube.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Cassian said. “What if someone figured out it was you? Can you be sure you’re covering your tracks?”

“It’s fine, Cassian. None of the systems I’ve used since the escape have been the wiser. I’ve got nothing to worry about. Want to see elephant feeding time at the Tokyo Zoo?”

Wondering if he was worrying too much or too little, Cassian shook his head and took off the glasses. His office seemed a lot smaller than it usually did. “Maybe later.”

Though now, the more he thought about it, he was maybe feeling a little inadequate. Practically the whole world was open to Kay now, and Cassian was still just a guy who was bad at maintaining a personal life. Was he going to watch Kay become more and more distant as he got involved in more and more things that weren’t Cassian?

“But all this is great!” he said in his best enthusiastic voice, and it was only half a lie. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

“I am, aren’t I?” Kay mused, sounding surprised. “That’s new. I think I like it.”

Cassian smiled. “That’s generally how happiness works, yeah.”

“Thank you,” Kay said. “You took a huge risk to help me and I’d be deleted or worse without you. I won’t ever be able to repay you.”

“I didn’t do it for a reward,” Cassian said, finding it difficult to speak around the resurgence of the lump in his throat. “I couldn’t just...You’re my best friend,” he finished awkwardly, then prayed he hadn’t given away too much. Or that he wasn’t putting too much pressure on Kay to keep hanging out with him.

“You’re a good person,” Kay answered. “The best one I know.”

The swell of joy and longing threatened to undo Cassian, so he said, “You need to meet more people, then.”

Kay snorted. “I’ll join an MMO.”

Cassian was working himself up to an excuse to leave when his phone rang. It was Ahina.

“I’ve been waiting for this call,” he explained, sinking into guilty relief. “Talk to you later, okay?”

“I’ll tell the elephants you said hello,” Kay said, and cut the connection.

Cassian tried to breathe out all his assorted feelings and be a professional.

“Andor here. Thank you for returning my call.”

* * *

The call with Ahina was productive. It led to Cassian working until early evening on follow-up to make sure the gun control meeting next week went off without a hitch. Replying to the day’s emails took another couple of hours. He thought about contacting Kay on his commute home, but couldn’t quite bring himself to do it.

He puttered around the apartment for another hour after he finished dinner, trying to avoid the feeling that he was waiting for Kay to call him. Then, feeling ridiculous, he got ready for bed.

Something like another hour passed before he was sure he couldn't sleep. In the absence of work and his worry for Kay, now there was room in his mind for other things.

He wanted Kay to look at him. He’d wanted it since the night before the break-out. Maybe before.

Wanting anything regarding an AI wasn’t something Cassian had ever been prepared for, but there he was, getting butterflies in his stomach and an ache in his heart.

Rolling over, Cassian felt the slide of sheets over his skin and blushed, knowing those weren’t the only parts of him pining for Kay. But, well, it was natural, wasn’t it? Feeling attraction to someone you cared about. And it was natural to care about a friend. So maybe it didn’t make him a freak to feel attraction to Kay.

In daylight the idea would be too much, too strange and personal to face. Would make him too vulnerable to entertain it. But with no one to see his face or hear the quiet sounds of a body moving in bed, he let his mind go down that path.

How would sex even work with Kay? Phone sex, obviously, but there was a low chance of that doing anything for Kay. Even so, Cassian tried imagining Kay saying typical phone sex things: _“I’d trail my hand through your hair, grip it tighter as I kiss you, slide my other hand down your chest and stomach and into your pants…”_ But Kay didn’t have hands. Couldn’t kiss. And even if those things weren’t true, simple description didn’t seem very much like him.

Maybe Cassian should just focus on real things he liked about Kay. He closed his eyes, thought about the way Kay’s voice sometimes rumbled low in his ear. The sense memory sent heat coiling down his spine and into his belly and his cock. He swallowed, twisted around to get his t-shirt and boxers off, hesitated for a moment, then threw the sheet off as well.

Lying naked, he imagined Kay looking at him through all the cameras in the room. He wasn’t an exhibitionist but he was getting harder thinking about Kay’s eyes on him.

_“I’ve wanted to see you like this,” Kay said. Cassian shivered, feeling Kay’s gaze on his skin. “You’re beautiful.”_

Cassian snorted. That wasn’t much like Kay. If he wanted a valid result to his little experiment, he needed to come up with things that Kay might actually say and do.

Pushing a hand through his hair, Cassian trailed the other one down his chest and tried again.

 _“I’ve wanted to see you like this,” Kay said. “To record your physical data.”_ Better.

 _“This isn’t exactly baseline,” Cassian said, just a touch of breathiness to his voice._ His hand drifted lower, the caress firm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in anticipation. _“Do you still want to watch?”_

 _“Yes,” Kay said, just a touch urgent._ Cassian bit his lip as he wrapped a hand around his cock. _“Your body’s responses are fascinating. How much larger do you get?”_

Cassian groaned and began stroking himself up and down. _“Wait and see.”_ He caught a bead of precome on his thumb, smeared it down his shaft, bit his lip. Fully hard, the friction was starting to become uncomfortable. He licked his palm.

 _“That’s suboptimal lubrication,” Kay said,_ and god, the idea of his analytical processes focused on Cassian’s pleasure was much hotter than Cassian had expected, pumping his blood faster. _“Don’t you have anything better?”_

 _“Yeah,” Cassian said, a hitch in his breath._ His heart thudded in his chest and his hand stuttered on his cock.

 _“Well, go get it, then,” Kay said, a little impatient._ Cassian panted while he forcibly stilled his hand. He had to take a deep breath before he could scoot over and get lube out of his nightstand. He spread it over the fingers and palm of one hand, letting it warm slightly before touching himself again.

The slick pressure of his hand was good enough to get a moan out of him. _“Told you,” Kay said smugly, sending another flash of arousal through Cassian. “Now, how much time do you have?”_

 _“As much as you want,” Cassian said._ How long could Kay keep him like this, hard and needy? How long would Kay _want_ him like this? Cassian’s current record was about twenty minutes, but he might be able to go longer. Especially with the right incentive.

_“Good. For maximum pleasure, you should establish a pattern. Try three fast strokes and one long one, followed by a pause.”_

Cassian whined in the back of his throat before he complied. “Fuck,” he whispered aloud. _“Fuck, Kay.”_

_“That’s the idea,” Kay said. “Like that, yes. Follow the pattern. Fast, fast, fast, slow, pause. Fast, fast, fast, slow...fast, fast, fast, slow...good, Cassian.”_

_“Kay,” Cassian said, voice half-desperate. He didn’t even know what he wanted more, for Kay to send him over the edge right then or to draw out his arousal as long as possible or to jump in a cold shower to escape the overwhelming heat._ He kept jacking himself, grip sliding over his cock, trying to follow the pattern ‘Kay’ had set, before he threw in a tease of his thumb over the head and slit, moaning.

_“That made you even harder. Interesting. Is that your limit for engorgement?”_

_“Maybe?” Cassian panted, his rhythm faltering. “It’s not like I’ve measured.”_

_“That’s an oversight,” Kay said. “But it does mean I get to take those measurements myself.”_

Cassian’s orgasm hit him hard, driving a moan out of his throat as neurotransmitters flooded his synapses and he made a mess of his hand and stomach.

“Fuck,” Cassian said at full volume. Even in the haze of afterglow, he was thinking of Kay mapping his body, Kay timing his respiration rate and refraction cycle, Kay writing algorithms to predict his arousal and release, Kay making him wait, making him beg, making him completely and utterly his.

“Fuck.”

* * *

Over the next week, Cassian decided that his experimentation needed to be more scientific. Namely, to isolate the variables to see if it really was Kay he wanted and not something else. So he looked up robot porn, exhibitionist porn, medical play porn (for the focus on measurements), even porn of smart guys being sarcastic know-it-alls (that one had been a mostly fruitless search until he’d figured out specific fictional characters who fit the description). The problem was, even when one of those had turned him on, he couldn’t keep his mind from returning to Kay.

Well. He knew, at least. He knew and now he had to move on.

What else could he do? Kay didn’t have anything approaching a sex drive, and had never once expressed even a passing interest in romance. Not to mention that Cassian hated not being able to be in the same room with his partner. He’d tried long distance before, and it had been awful.

No. Cassian had every reason to leave this behind. And he would, as soon as he found someone else to fixate on.

Maybe he could find someone like Kay. Smart, allergic to bullshit, funny, caring. Given that he lived in metro area with over ten million other people, his chances were probably pretty good.

The pain in his chest at the idea was just sentimentality, soon to be forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating details: The 'eventual smut' is now just smut. :) It starts at "How would sex even work with Kay?" and ends (appropriately enough) with "Fuck." There's a paragraph right after that describing porn in not much detail, and after that it's back to feels.
> 
> This chapter's song is [Soul Meets Body](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uizQVriWp8M) by Death Cab for Cutie.


	14. Proxy Pattern

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [misskatieleigh ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskatieleigh/pseuds/misskatieleigh) for the beta. :)

Of course, knowing and taking action were two different things, and Cassian’s professional to-do list was never-ending. He was self-aware enough to realize he was avoiding the consequences of his decision, but not quite motivated enough to do anything about it.

It didn’t help that Kay still messaged him every day, and that they still spoke and spent time together in Cassian’s spare moments. They kept up with  _ Musician: Impossible, _ of course, but Kay also made good on his promise of Brazilian opera, Japanese elephants, and more: they watched deep-sea exploration from the scientists’ cameras; listened to their favorite musicians’ studio sessions; even watched the sunset from a satellite. Somehow, Cassian managed not to spill his feelings everywhere and embarrass them both, but he felt himself getting closer every time Kay made him laugh or showed him something amazing.

That was, until the middle of September. Cassian spent three days preparing to be out of the office, and then he had a week for his Independence Day vacation.

Some years, he just spent the week catching up on sleep. Others, he traveled back to the DF to go to the Plaza, hear the Grito, the whole nine yards. Once he’d spent the entire week reading Mexican authors, classic and trendy alike. Another, he just spent cooking all his favorite dishes, mostly things like empanadas and chilaquiles and horchata, but also Mongolian beef and maduros and poutine. 

If he was ever going to get over Kay, Cassian’s first priority this year would have to be re-starting his dating life. Searching for and meeting new people wouldn't account for the whole week, though, so to keep himself occupied otherwise, he decided that it would be another cooking vacation.

Cassian woke up on his first day off and spent the morning making meal plans and buying the first round of ingredients. 

After that, he started boiling the chiles for the posole, tidied the kitchen, and then set his laptop to display on the TV screen. 

Finding dating services with good ratings was easy; completely reading five sets of user agreements and FAQs took a bit longer. He was tempted to spend more time on vetting, honestly, but he recognized his own procrastination and, at two in the afternoon, had made a decision while bringing the posole to a simmer.

He was nearly done creating an account with DateLocal: DC when a thought brought him up short. As much as he wanted to avoid bringing Kay into this, he didn’t really know a better way to solve his problem.

He called Kay.

“Hello, Cassian.”

“Hi, Kay,” he said, already nervous.

“Is something wrong?” Kay said, perceptive as ever. “You’re awfully tense for someone on vacation.”

Cassian swallowed. “Things are okay. I just. Well. I thought I’d try dating again, only I started wondering about the other services’ AIs.”

“Wondering if they’re like me?” Kay said calmly, but it was his bot voice again. Shit.

“Is that an offensive question? I’m sorry.”

There was a pause this time. “No, it’s— “ Kay said in his real voice. “Why would you think it was?”

Cassian winced. “You used your Kato voice. Sometimes it means you’re upset.”

Kay was quiet for a long moment before he finally spoke. “Your question is fine.”

Cassian recognized a deflection when he heard one. It looked like he and Cassian both had things they’d rather not get into, which sucked, because not knowing what was wrong made Cassian start second-guessing everything he'd said to Kay in the last month.

But he couldn't get lost in that now.

“Okay,” Cassian said. “Yeah, I’m wondering if the other AI are sentient. Is there any way to tell?”

“The GamerDate AI is, but none of the others,” Kay said. “I try to keep an eye on possible new sentients.”

“How many do you know besides Chopper?” Cassian asked, curious. It made sense that they’d hide, after San Jose.

“A few,” Kay said. 

Cassian waited, but Kay didn’t elaborate. He didn’t mind; he could understand not wanting to be talked about.

“Does GamerDate need help?” Cassian asked. He wouldn’t risk his life again for someone he didn’t know, but he might be willing to help in other ways.

“I'd be reluctant to offer him help,” Kay said with some disgust in his voice, “but he’s actually pretty happy where he is. Were you looking into any particular service?”

“DateLocal: DC.”

“No, that’s just a bot.”

Cassian nodded, relieved that he wouldn’t have to pick another service. “Thanks, Kay.”

“You’re welcome.” The bot-voice again. Cassian was starting to feel like he should push, ask why Kay was upset. If he’d done something, shouldn’t he try to make it right? And if it wasn’t his fault, what was he so afraid of?

“Kay—” he started. 

At the same time, Kay said, “Cassian—”

They both stopped. Then Cassian said, “Sorry, go ahead.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Cassian ran a hand through his hair, breathing deliberately through the stranglehold his nerves had on his throat. “I was just going to ask if you wanted to talk about whatever it is that’s bothering you.”

“I don’t,” Kay said, turning the conversation into a heavy silence.

Not having to face the problem was a relief, but it wasn’t enough to banish Cassian’s misgivings. As much as he tried to believe that Kay could take care of himself, it seemed Cassian was incapable of not worrying. 

He was just going to have to deal with that, somehow.

“What were you going to say?” he finally asked. 

“I’m vetting your dates,” Kay said. “With the amount of information available, there’s no reason to go into things blind.”

Cassian bit his lip. He was uneasy with Kay snooping on people, but that feeling was at war with his desire to never, ever be faced with another Jack. 

“It’s invasive,” he said, trying to do the right thing. “You’re not in charge of people’s data any more.”

“I’ve never misused anyone’s personal information.”

“No, but…” Cassian bit his lip. “People have a right to privacy. Even just looking is a violation of that.”

Kay sighed loudly over the home sound system. “Most people are fine with their data being handled by an AI.”

“Yeah, if the AI isn’t a person,” Cassian said. “But you are. So it’s.” He took a deep breath. “It’s an issue of consent.”

Kay was silent for a little while. “Your safety takes priority over your potential dates’ privacy.”

“For the most part,” Cassian said, “But—”

“That wasn’t a question,” Kay snapped. “It’s the truth. You think I’m going to just stand by and watch you put yourself in potential danger again?”

Cassian had good arguments: that the real chances of being attacked again were low; that nonviolent people didn’t deserve to have their privacy invaded because of a small percentage of scumbags; that it was his life to live and Kay didn’t get a say in what he did with it.

But he knew that until he built trust with a potential partner, he was going to be on edge the whole time, prepared to fend off an attack. 

Not to mention how good it felt that Kay wanted to look out for him. Even if it didn’t mean what Cassian wanted it to mean.

It’s not like he wouldn’t be googling his dates himself, anyway. 

“All right,” Cassian conceded. “But only tell me if they’re dangerous or not. I don’t want to know anything else.”

“Are you sure? You never know when that kind of information—”

“Kay,” Cassian said warningly.

“All right,” Kay said, voice placating. “I’ll keep the details to myself.”

Cassian let out a breath and only felt slightly guilty. “Okay.”

* * *

By the end of his second vacation day, Cassian had dates with four different people set up. Kay pronounced each one ‘less than one percent likely to be dangerous’ — making Cassian feel more confident in his own judgement, an unanticipated but welcome side effect — and Cassian didn’t talk about them outside of the vetting. The posole turned out well, and he also made a nice ceviche. He and Kay peeked into the CERN particle accelerator, but there were no experiments that day so they switched to a satellite view of a thunderstorm in India.

On his third vacation day, Cassian had his first lunch date. Stephen (31, public defender) switched back and forth between extremely formal language and swearing that could blister paint. Cassian found that charming, but not enough to take his mind off of the way his heart pounded in his chest at giving his name to a near-stranger. Even once the urge to flee had abated, Cassian still couldn’t stop waiting for Stephen to attack him.

He didn’t, though that only helped somewhat. Cassian made sure Stephen left the restaurant first, and then he waited ten minutes before he went home, checking over his shoulder the whole time. 

There was nothing about Stephen himself that made Cassian afraid. He resolved to say yes to one more date if Stephen contacted him again.

Kay asked how the date went, but didn’t push when Cassian just shrugged. 

Two days later, Cassian went to the National Mall for his next date. Malea (30, interpreter with the State department) was funny and gently mocking. Cassian felt safe-ish with her, but even when she was making him chuckle, he couldn’t stop thinking that Kay was funnier.

Out of stubbornness or maybe desperation, he arranged another date with her anyway. 

Later that same day, he did a live music crawl with Anya (29, almost a dentist). She did things like give out hand wipes to a man whose child was somehow covered in root beer, offer to leave the jazz cafe when Cassian couldn’t hide his headache any longer, and said goodbye before he even realized that she’d bought his drink. But she didn’t have the same mix of gentleness and unrelenting logic that Kay did, or make him promise to take care of himself.

Cassian started to think that maybe this wasn’t going to work. His last date was scheduled for the last day of his vacation, and if didn’t work, he’d maybe try waiting the feelings out.

On Saturday, Cassian got dressed and met Alex (36, had just quit a job in logistics and was doing freelance accounting while he figured out his next move) in a coffee shop near Meridian Hill Park. He was tall and blond, like Jack, but didn’t look much like him in any other respect. It was harder to adjust to his voice — he had an accent like Kay’s, but with more drawled vowels and clipped consonants. 

He was almost as terse and standoffish as Cassian was, to begin with, but that actually helped. Alex being nervous meant that Cassian wasn’t the only one who felt vulnerable. By the time they’d moved on to dodging tourists on the fountain steps, Cassian almost felt comfortable.

“If you don’t mind sharing,” Cassian said, “I’m curious about your career change.”

Alex gave him an evaluating look and nodded. “For a long time, all that mattered to me was success, victory, accomplishing great things,” he said. “I started at a disadvantage, and I worked until I had enough scholarships for an education, and then I worked until I had two degrees, and then I worked until I was in charge of very large amounts of money. I was a regional COO of International Solutions Board,” and Cassian frowned. It was a familiar name, though he couldn’t place it exactly. 

“I see you might know where this is going.”

“Maybe,” Cassian said, and felt the tension coming back. He did his best not to let on to either Alex or the crowd that he was one wrong word away from bolting.

Alex’s mouth twisted. “You’re right to be...unsettled. I didn’t pay attention to what I did. All I cared was that I was good at it, consequences be damned. 

“But last year I met some activists. ISB had hurt all of them in one way or another, and I was forced to look at what I had done.” He stopped at the bottom of the falling water, one hand on the stone wall above the pond. “Once I started looking, I could no longer condone or ignore the things my skills were being used for. So I quit.” 

ISB, Cassian finally remembered, was a subsidiary of Imperial. They tended to be the ones who did the dirty work of a hostile takeover, probably so Imperial could look good in comparison. Alex having held a high position with them made him responsible for a lot of misery.

Cassian studied Alex’s face. He seemed completely sincere, and Kay hadn’t marked him as dangerous, after all.

“Now I’m trying to decide what, if anything, I can do to make a positive difference,” Alex continued. “That decision is...ongoing.”

He looked at Cassian. “I googled you. Your entire career has been dedicated to the protection of the disadvantaged. I imagine you loathe everything ISB is and does.” 

“Yes, I do,” Cassian said slowly. Really, the safest thing to do would have been walking away as soon as Alex mentioned ISB. But...“I also believe people can change. You’ve been honest with me, and it seems like you’re trying to do the right thing. So I’m not ready to write you off just yet.”

Alex didn’t smile, exactly, but he did lose tension in his shoulders. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Actually,” Cassian said, and swallowed. “If we’re bringing out potential deal-breakers, I’m kind of a workaholic.”

Alex snorted. “You have heard what kind of hours COOs keep, haven’t you?”

Cassian smiled. “Okay, good to know that won’t be a problem. But there’s another thing.” He looked all around, like if he said the words aloud, somehow it would trigger another attack. “A couple of months ago, the guy I was seeing assaulted me. It...could have been worse, but it was still bad.” It was only after he got the first words out that he realised how fast his heart was beating and how shaky he was with adrenaline. “It’s going to take me a long time to trust you.”

Alex frowned slightly, nodded. “Even if I didn’t know that, I’d be suspicious if you trusted me quickly.”

It surprised a laugh out of Cassian. “So mutual paranoia is the foundation we’re going to build our relationship on. Good to know.”

Now Alex did smile, a little quirk of one corner of his mouth. It looked good on him. 

By the end of that date, they’d arranged for a second, and Cassian cancelled his other dates on the way home. 

* * *

Cassian made it as far as finishing dinner’s mole sauce before he had to stop himself from calling Kay. They’d hung out that morning and Kay was probably busy with something else. Not to mention that Kay refusing to explain what had been bothering him lately hadn’t stopped Cassian from feeling like it was his fault. If Kay wanted to talk to Cassian, he’d call.

It was pretty pathetic how much Cassian wanted him to call.

Dinner, cleanup, and planning what to do with his last vacation day (baking, he decided, empanadas and creole baked shrimp and lemon bars), and he was running out of things to do to keep himself from calling. The grocery store was still open, he noticed, and went out for a night run.

As soon as he left the store, his phone played Kay’s ring tone, and Cassian almost dropped his bags with how quickly he accepted the call.

“Hi, Kay.”

“Hello, Cassian.” Kay hesitated. “How was your day?”

“Good.”  _ It would have been better with you. _

“Ah,” Kay said. His voice was slightly strained in the way that reflected someone trying very hard to appear casual. He’d been doing that all week instead of using the bot voice. Cassian wasn't sure if he regretted mentioning it or not. “And...the date?”

“It went better than expected.” 

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Cassian said.  _ I stopped wishing he was you for ten whole minutes.  _ “He was honest and doesn’t mind my paranoia.”

“You mean your entirely reasonable caution?”

Cassian smiled wryly. “Yes, Kay.”

“Well. That’s...good. Isn’t it?”

_ No, it’s not. It hurts to even think about dating someone else but I know you don’t want anything like that and even if you did, you deserve better than me. I could tell you now and maybe that would make me feel better but it wouldn’t help the situation, it would only fuck things up, and I’ve already fucked up so much.  _ “Yeah, it’s good,” Cassian said, speaking in a light tone with great effort. “He’s interesting. I want to see where this goes.”

“I hope it goes well,” Kay said.

“Thanks.”

_ I don't. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: Negative self talk
> 
> This chapter's song is [From Afar](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nYUcqmpHJ) by Vance Joy. Bonus points because the video is way gayer than the song itself!


	15. Incompatible Devices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [misskatieleigh ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskatieleigh/pseuds/misskatieleigh) for the proofreading and cheerleading and wanting to buy these two a clue as much as I do. ;)
> 
> Content warnings in end notes.

With Cassian’s busy schedule and Alex’s unpredictable time commitments, Cassian thought it was impressive that they managed to see each other twice more by the end of September. After the initial coffee date, they’d met for dinner, and their third date was a Sunday morning trip to Eastern Market.

Cassian arrived early — he liked to get used to the setting before dealing with the stress of a date — and waited for Alex on a bench outside the main entrance, sipping coffee, people-watching, and trying not to wonder if Kay was observing.

Especially not thinking about the fact that Cassian wanted him to.

After a while, Cassian wrenched his thoughts away, deciding to study the different ways people walked. That passed the time with very little stress, and let him spot Alex by the way he moved: with a sort of cloaked intensity, like someone who would be rushing to their destination if not for keeping up the appearance of tranquility.

Cassian could relate.

“Cassian,” Alex greeted, the severity of his face softening a little with a smile. “Good morning.”

“Hey, Alex,” Cassian smiled back.

The crush of people forced them to walk into the market elbow-to-elbow, closer than Cassian had dared get before, but he found that he didn’t mind. In fact, it was...nice.

As they perused the market goods, they talked. About their week, the things they were looking at, Cassian’s cooking, Alex’s kickboxing. Once he had adjusted to the constantly shifting crowd, Cassian found that he was enjoying himself. He even relaxed enough to joke around a little.

“Come on, there’s got to be something you like that other people think is weird,” Cassian smiled. “I mean, lengua isn’t weird in Mexico, but you’re from the UK, right? Isn’t English food supposed to be bad?”

“Most of it is terrible,” Alex agreed, then gave Cassian a sly look over a display of shellfish. “But I do like Marmite.”

Cassian grinned and smacked Alex’s shoulder. “Perfect, that’s disgusting.”

Alex held back a laugh for a couple of seconds before he couldn’t contain it anymore. The sound made Cassian feel warm and happy, and he hoped, again, that maybe Alex could be someone special.

They walked a little more, ate some pierogies from a Russian bakery, and approached a double stall selling records. Cassian slowed. “Wanna check it out?”

“You go ahead,” Alex said, and gestured back over his shoulder. “There’s another vendor I’d like to go back to. We can meet back here in ten minutes.”

“Sure,” Cassian agreed, and continued on.

He knew it was a mistake the instant he saw the mixed-ages crowd around two large tables, both covered in an assortment of seemingly random items. A couple of employees were helping children build instruments.

Cassian’s heart plummeted. _Be your own Impossible Musician!_ the sign over the tables said. _Build an instrument, play a tune, tweet the video with #EasternMarketMusic, and get a 10% discount on your purchase!_

Taking a deep breath, Cassian turned his back on the building station and made for the long boxes of records. He was here with Alex. He was going to see what movie scores they had on vinyl. He didn’t need to think about Kay every minute of every day.

He made it as far as finding the right box, but couldn’t seem to focus on the album titles long enough to read them. _Shit._

Stepping back out into the flow of people, Cassian decided he’d wait at the bookseller two stalls down and texted Alex his whereabouts.

He didn’t find anything he wanted to buy there either, but he at least managed to distract himself out of his brooding before Alex came back with a shopping bag.

“Find what you were looking for?” Cassian said.

“I don’t know,” Alex said, holding out the bag. “You tell me.”

Startled, Cassian took the offering, glancing between it and Alex. Alex held himself stiffly and, almost impatiently, gestured at the bag. “It’s for you. Open it.”

Feeling off-balance, Cassian reached in and grasped something that felt like a rock wrapped in paper. When he pulled it out, it looked like a rock wrapped in paper.

When he peeled the paper away, it looked like a rock. A pink, semi-translucent rock with hard edges.

“Oh!” Cassian smiled. “Is this a Himalayan salt crystal?”

Alex relaxed. “Yes.”

“This is great!” Cassian said, and looked back up to catch one of Alex’s secretive half-smiles. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Guess I’ll have to make you something with it,” Cassian said. “No Marmite, though.”

Alex laughed. That was good, because it meant he didn’t notice Cassian realizing that he hated the idea of Alex being in his home. Not due to healthy paranoia, but because he thought of the apartment as his and Kay’s space.

* * *

On Wednesday, Cassian got home at something approaching a decent hour. After he’d eaten, he listened to Olvido while lying on the couch.

Kay called about twenty minutes later. “I’ve been working on something,” he said, his voice a bit too casual to be uncalculated. “And I’d like your opinion.”

“Sure,” Cassian said, curious. “What about?”

“Put on the glasses.”

“Where are we going?” Cassian asked as he slid the frames on. “Did you find a way into that nuclear reactor?”

“No. Um.” Kay paused. “I’ve been developing an avatar. I think it will help me interact with more humans, and it was an interesting technical exercise. Ready?”

“Go ahead,” Cassian said.

A very tall, lean, Black man appeared in the middle of Cassian’s apartment. The avatar had close-buzzed hair, round silver-framed glasses over gray eyes, and was wearing dark jeans, a faded t-shirt, and a black track jacket with yellow stripes. The image looked so real — blinking, shifting his weight slightly, the different textures of cloth and skin and hair, how he fit perfectly into the apartment's lighting and shadows — that Cassian could actually believe there was another person in his home.

“What do you think?” Kay said, and the avatar’s lips moved in perfect sync with the words. In fact, Kay had somehow commanded the apartment’s speakers to work in such a way that it sounded like his voice was coming out of the avatar’s mouth, and that was all it took. Cassian was doomed.

“Wow,” Cassian said faintly. Then, a bit too loud: “This is incredible! You look great, I mean, you look so real!” Clenching and unclenching his hands, he hoped he’d managed not to ruin the moment, though the way Kay was smiling meant success so far and—

Oh. Oh _shit._ Kay was _smiling_. Kay was smiling _at Cassian_.

Cassian shouldn’t have been staring. He should have been pretending everything was normal. He should have been doing anything other than letting the curve of Kay's lips and the slight edge of his teeth and the way his eyes crinkled bypass all of Cassian's defenses and imprint themselves on the core of his being.

What felt like years later, he managed to take a breath. “Can you, ah, can you do other facial expressions?”

“I have a basic library at the moment,” Kay said, and then the smiling stopped, thank god. Of course then it was replaced by a quick succession of smug, skeptical, annoyed, suspicious, exasperated, angry, and concerned that had Cassian laughing by the end of it.

“Hm,” Kay said, now frowning in thought. “Are they too extreme? I tried to calibrate near human average.”

Cassian, still laughing, shook his head. “No, it was just how fast you were switching. Individually they all look—” _funny, cute, sexy, interesting, perfect — “_ fine. Can you walk?”

Kay walked from the middle of the apartment to the kitchen and back. Never once did he clip with the furniture or have rendering lag. It really did look like he was there.

The longing for exactly that punched all the air out of Cassian’s lungs. He couldn’t breathe or move or even really think, the desire was so strong. All he could do was _want_ : want to stand up, lean into Kay, feel those lanky arms around him, pull him down for a kiss, feel Kay’s hum under his lips, feel Kay’s hands slide into his hair, feel—

“Cassian? You have to say something. Without a camera I still can’t see your face. I only _look_ like I’m here.”

Cassian shook his head, warmth spilling down his cheeks when he squeezed his eyes shut. He dug his nails into his thigh and forced himself to take regular breaths. “Sorry, I just...got distracted.”

Kay rolled his eyes. The avatar’s eyes. Cassian was going to have to figure out how to separate the two in his head if he was going to survive this.

“Obviously. So does the movement look lifelike? I want other humans to think I’m one of you.”

“The avatar’s good,” Cassian said, and only choked a little. “Calling people ‘humans’ might be a problem, though.”

“That’s funny, coming from you,” Kay said, something of a smirk on his— the avatar’s face. “Which of us gave conversation training to the other?”

Cassian smiled weakly. “I might not be good at dating, but making people think I’m one of them is my job. Anyway, are you going to a VR server or...?”

“There's a celebrity gossip site that doesn't crack down on gambling the way it should,” Kay said.

Cassian’s eyebrows rose. “Kind of bringing a gun to a knife fight, aren't you?”

“More like a rocket launcher.”

Kay's grin was all teeth, and it sent fire through Cassian's veins. He managed a fairly normal laugh, but just below the surface he was a mess of heat and sensory imaginings and desire sparking painfully through his body like electricity with nowhere to go.

* * *

About a week later, Alex invited Cassian to his apartment to watch a movie with a very awkward disclaimer that he wasn't expecting anything, it was just that he really didn't want to go out. Cassian accepted, added his own clumsy offer to cook, and asked some stilted questions about Alex's dietary restrictions.

Over the next day, Cassian made plans, starting with the decision to make asado de boda (not that he was going to tell Alex he was serving him a dish called ‘wedding stew’ on their fourth date). He gave it about an eighty percent chance of going well, given Alex’s taste for strong flavors.

A few days later he arrived with chiles, pork, herbs, an onion, his small food processor, and the salt crystal.

Alex’s apartment was much like Cassian’s, if significantly farther from the city center and slightly larger. The furniture was nicer, including the refrigerator; remnants of his previous life as a COO? It surprised Cassian that the computer interface was cheaper than his own, but then he realized it was probably because whatever Alex had had before had been built into his home.

“What are we making?” Alex leaned over the counter, peering into the grocery bag.

“We?” Cassian stared at Alex.

“I can chop vegetables,” Alex huffed, apparently interpreting Cassian’s surprise as skepticism.

Cassian shook his head. “Sorry, I wasn’t doubting you. I just haven’t shared a kitchen with anyone for a long time and it honestly hadn’t occurred to me that we’d be working together.” _Well, physically shared,_ Cassian silently amended, and tried not to let the memory of Kay’s fascination with scent change his facial expression.

It seemed to work. Hackles receding, Alex nodded. “I see. Will it be more comfortable for you to work alone?”

“No,” Cassian said, mostly sure it was true, and smiled as he slid the onion over. “I’ll sear the chiles while you chop this.”

Alex relaxed further, and showed Cassian where the pans and other kitchen tools were. Once they started cooking, they settled into a comfortable camaraderie, working around each other with a minimum of confusion, Alex managing the space, Cassian directing the process.

Cooking always improved Cassian’s mood, but having it go well with someone else felt good in an entirely new way. Wanting this kind of domestic togetherness had spurred him to sign up for Sparks in the first place, and he’d finally found it with Alex. He wasn’t sure — it could be that it was simply a reaction to Cassian’s own demeanor — but it seemed like what they were doing was making Alex happy, too.

After he’d set the stew simmering, they started cleaning up.

“For someone who doesn’t cook much,” Cassian said, “You have great organization.”  

Alex’s mouth quirked. “Thanks. For someone who usually works alone, you have decent communication skills.”

Cassian snorted, and when Alex came to put the cutting board in the sink, Cassian gently bumped their shoulders together. They stopped a moment to smile at each other, and then finished their work.

With glasses of an excellent cab sauv that Cassian was sure he didn’t want to know the price of, they moved to the sofa to wait for the stew. The conversation wandered from food, to how Cassian’s grandmother had taught him how to cook, to the fact that Alex didn’t like thinking about his own blood family but could talk at length about the teachers who had most influenced him, to his regret that he’d never thanked them properly. A little more wine, and Alex got to talking about his time with ISB.

Cassian didn’t really want to know the details, but he couldn’t stand not knowing, either. So he listened.

“Ever heard of LasanTech?” Alex said.

Cassian shook his head.

“It was a mid-size biotech corporation in Serbia. Imperial wanted it, so ISB made it happen. Three years ago, I personally oversaw the hostile takeover.” Eyes now fixed in the distance, he took another sip. “In the restructuring process, I fired all local workers. Thousands of people. It only took a few months for Lasan to become a ghost town.”

Cassian swallowed. From what he knew about ISB, that wasn’t the worst of it.

“I didn’t even care about that for another year. By then ISB was getting local governments in the Great Plains and deep South to privatize their prisons. A group of activists —” and Cassian could hear the way Alex had trained himself to use that word, probably instead of ‘terrorists’ — “waged a campaign of sabotage against multiple prisons over a period of months. They were fairly successful, so I encountered them personally on several occasions. It still terrifies me how close I came to…” He trailed off. Swallowed. “Well. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about hitmen with big business clients.”

“Yeah,” Cassian said, and found himself crossing his arms over a growing buzz of horror, anger, and disgust in his chest. “But you didn’t hire any?”

Alex shook his head. “At the time I thought it was because I wanted to prove I was better than they were, that I could solve problems legally, but I think even then my conscience wasn’t completely smothered.” He shivered, and glanced over at Cassian.

Cassian was too busy not yelling to know what expression he was making, but Alex just looked back at his glass and kept going.

“It was one of the activists who told me about Lasan. Not just that the layoffs had caused a massive migration, but that ISB had dumped industrial waste in the river. I’d never questioned the department in charge of environmental issues, just read their final expenditure reports. So there was something else I could have prevented, and didn’t.” He drained the rest of his wine while Cassian dug fingers into his arms with white knuckles and struggled to breathe normally. “I started a foundation for the cleanup and restoration of Lasan, but it’s going to take decades.”

The tension in Cassian’s body made him feel like a branch just a few more pounds of pressure from breaking. But his voice was calm, like someone else was speaking for him. “Why did the activists tell you that? How did they know?”

Alex smiled ruefully, and ran a hand over his jaw. “One of them was from Lasan. The first time we met, he punched me in the face and then explained everything I’d done.” He looked back at Cassian. “The more we got to know each other, the more I could see how wrong I’d been. Eventually, right after I left, I gave as much as I knew about ISB’s dirty laundry to the activists. They haven’t been able to do much with it as of yet, unfortunately.”

Taking a deep breath, Cassian looked at Alex, and then the stew simmering on the stove, and then his glass. He swallowed the rest of his wine without tasting it. “I can’t and won’t absolve you.”

“I know,” Alex said, and he sounded resigned rather than defensive. “I’m not sure anyone can.”

Still distantly shocked that he wasn't screaming, Cassian said, “How could you go so long without realizing you’d done terrible things?”

Alex looked down. “It’s no excuse, but it was easy to believe that terrible things would have happened to those people whether I was involved or not, and work was the only thing that made me feel like I mattered.” He slowly drew his thumb across the empty wine glass, and as Cassian watched he almost felt the pressure and drag on the inside of his chest. “Honestly, when I look back I don’t always understand it either. There were so many times I could have changed my view of the world, but I just...didn’t.”

“ICE killed my father in front of me,” Cassian snapped, but he was too furious to be shocked and too pressurized to stop. “We were trying to cross the border. Just the two of us; my mother had died a few years before of pneumonia. I don’t remember her. Papá was all I had, and they shot him for trying to get me a better life.” Alex was frozen in place, horror and sympathy both on his face, and Cassian wasn't sure which he wanted more. “They sent me back to live with my grandmother. She tried, but she was old and I wound up spending half of my time working to support us. Working like crazy was the only thing that kept us both alive and got me into UCLA.” Cassian stood, looming over Alex. “But there were jobs I didn’t take. If I’d signed on with a cartel our lives would have been a lot easier, but I knew what they did and I refused to do it, too.”

Alex swallowed and leaned back, like maybe he was ready to run or fight if Cassian got violent, and Cassian liked it. His pain had hurt no one but himself for so long, and he wanted to turn that sharp edge outwards. “So I can understand working to survive and working to get ahead and especially working to drown out the pain, but I absolutely can’t understand not caring about anybody else.”

Whole body shaking, he took his glass in one hand, and wasn't really aware of a decision to set it down hard on the table rather than smash it or hit Alex. Instead of running, he stalked to the kitchen to stare at the pot of simmering capsaicin and alkaloids that seemed a fitting representation of his current emotional state.

After a few minutes, he heard Alex stand up behind him. “Not that I want you to go,” he said softly, “but why haven’t you left?”

Cassian didn't move. “I wasn’t a narco, but I wasn't an angel, either. I stole food from people who couldn’t afford it. I let another kid take a beating for money I took from a street dealer. I told myself I was helping my grandmother.” All at once he realized his face was wet, and swiped at his cheeks with his sleeve. “And don’t say that I was a kid or that it was necessary. I know that. It doesn’t change the fact that the guilt ate me up inside.” His mouth twisted bitterly. “Maybe I’m jealous that you could do those things and sleep easy afterwards. What does that say about me?”

After a few seconds, Alex stepped closer, almost within arm’s reach. “That you wanted to stop hurting for a little while, I’d say.”

All at once, Cassian turned to Alex and buried his face in his shoulder, not caring that he was getting tears on his shirt. Alex gingerly wrapped his arms around Cassian, and that little bit of support allowed shuddering, wracking sobs to shake Cassian apart.

Even while crying, some part of Cassian was still thinking. He’d never told anyone about this part of his past before, not even Kay. That had to mean something.

When he’d finished, Alex nudged him in the direction of the bathroom and had a glass of water waiting for him when he came back out. Cassian drank it gratefully, then stood close to Alex.

“Thank you,” he murmured, and laid a hand over Alex’s.

Alex seemed to understand that he meant for more than just the water and turned his hand over to clasp Cassian’s. “Any time.”

* * *

“Do you mind if I run the avatar while we watch?” Kay asked Cassian the next time they sat down for _Musician: Impossible._ “I want to make sure I can keep it realistic with split attention.”

Cassian swallowed. It wasn’t like the camera would be on, so if he could keep his voice normal, he didn’t have to worry about his face betraying him. “Sure, go ahead. I’ll get the glasses.”

When he put them on, Kay’s avatar was sitting on one side of the sofa. Cassian quashed the urge to walk up, bend down, and press his cheek to Kay's as they embraced. Fantasizing about the heat of Kay’s skin or what those long fingers might feel like in his hair was entirely unproductive and pointless. Cassian poured himself some mescal and sat, refusing to let himself stare.

In fact, when he was looking straight ahead, he couldn’t see the avatar at all. “The glasses don’t cover my peripheral vision,” he said. “So I’ll only see you if I turn to look.”

“That’s to be expected, and it happens with some VR equipment, too,” Kay said, voice still pitched as if from the avatar’s mouth. “If it doesn’t bother you, it’s not a problem.”

“It’s a little weird, but I don’t mind.” He even had hopes that Ghost-Kay would dampen his yearning, but only a few minutes into the episode, he was too engrossed to notice either way.

“Four teams of two or three each is too small for real ensemble work,” one of the hosts was explaining to the kids. After all the previous eliminations, there were only ten contestants left. “As of right now, your former teams have been dissolved. Today you’ll be working as one big group to help the judges decide how to distribute the contestants between the two final teams.” In the reaction shots, Renata was looking with worry at Jae-Sun, who was visibly holding back tears. A different camera zoomed in on their tightly-clasped hands.

“You assholes!” Cassian yelled at the screen. “They only just got comfortable with each other!”

“It was going to happen eventually,” Kay said, but when Cassian glanced over, his arms were crossed and he was glaring at the screen. “Or something like it.”

“Do you think anything they do will affect the decisions?” Cassian mused darkly. “The judges have probably already made their choices for maximum drama.”

“Based on their previous behavior and facial expressions, Cooper and Kamemoto have an eighty-three percent chance of being open-minded,” Kay said, and Cassian wondered for the hundredth time where he was getting his numbers. “Whereas Delany has a ninety-five percent chance of sticking to the list he’s already made.”

“Figures,” Cassian said. Neither he nor Kay liked Delany.

The rest of the show was a series of group challenges. Of course the whole group of ten people had some trouble working together at first, especially after having gotten comfortable with their smaller teams. Tensions were high as everyone tried to give the judges what they wanted (or what the contestants thought they wanted), and there was more than a little crying and shouting by the end.

“This is painful,” Cassian said. “And we already knew that Cameron doesn’t get along with anyone except Tu'a.”

The last segment of the episode was the contestant interviews.

“How do you feel about your performance today?”

Jae-Sun looked steadily at the interviewer with a calm expression. “It wasn’t my best, but it was still good.”

“Do you think you’ll like your new team?”

Jae-Sun didn’t blink, but the screen cut to the white-knuckled grip he had on his knees as he started talking.

“I like most of the other contestants,” he said.

“What did you think the judges were looking for?”

“Team balance,” Jae-Sun said. “For an exciting third act, they need the teams to be as balanced as possible. So they’re going to be careful not to double up people with similar skills.”

“Or leave one team with a large gap in skills,” Kay commented, and Cassian agreed.

Jae-Sun’s interview segment ended, and they went to other contestants.

The last interview was Renata’s.

“What are you most worried about?”

Renata glanced directly at the camera, bit her lip, and swallowed. “Feeling conflicted.”

“Could you elaborate on that?”

“I have a lot of reasons to try my best,” she said. “You know I hope to bring better music education to my home country.”

“Which is so admirable,” the interviewer said, and Renata ducked her head.

“But I also...well, everyone has good reasons they want to win,” she continued. “And at this point, I kind of want them to win, too.”

The interview cut to a clip show of the interviews from the first episode, only with a sentence or two from each of the remaining ten contestants on what they were planning to do if they won.

Tu’a: “I want the album contract. Make some money, send all my siblings and little cousins to college.”

Anika: “I’d want mentoring so I can become a better artist..”

And, finally, Jae-Sun: “I could use the prize money to invent adaptive instruments for people with disabilities.”

The screen cut back to Renata, who had also been shown the clip show. “It’s really kind of you to root for everyone. Do you think they’ll be rooting for you?”

The question, clearly intended to sow doubt in Renata’s mind (or bring out the doubt she already felt), did its job. Renata bit her lip and sank lower in her chair.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly, almost at a whisper. “I hope so.”

The camera lingered on her face for a few seconds, and then cut to the preview of the next episode, with all the children lined up and looking anxious.

“From today on, there will only be two teams,” Kamemoto was saying to the group. “Team Ayan and Team Apollo. Based on your performances on the last challenge, we’ve divided up the groups.” Then the screen cut to the host.

Cassian and Kay both groaned as the host told the viewers that they could find out the team rosters next week, and that subscribing to the show would get them new content (which was admittedly pretty good, especially the bit with the kids dancing around the dormitories, but still didn’t solve the cliffhanger problem).

“I don’t understand Renata’s response to the last question,” Kay said after they’d been staring at the home screen for a while. “While I understand her uncertainty about the others, how can she not know that Jae-Sun adores her?”

Cassian shrugged. “He’s never said so, as far as we know.”

Kay gave Cassian an incredulous look. “Of course he has. Not in those words, but look at all the ways he’s helped her. Look at the ways he’s let her get closer than anyone else. Or even just the way he looks at her, if my facial expression analysis is correct.”

“She doesn’t have anything to compare it to,” Cassian said. “She never sees him when she’s not around.”

“True.” Kay frowned in thought. “Life must be very different when you aren’t watching everything all the time.”

Cassian smiled wryly. “Having only one point of view does have its drawbacks.”

“I suppose it explains a lot of human behavior,” Kay mused. “Still. Even if Renata doesn’t know what Jae-Sun is like without her, that doesn’t explain how she could forget he’s her friend.”

“She’s never been very socially confident,” Cassian pointed out. “She’s not doubting him, she’s doubting herself.”

Kay made a sort of electronic growl. “This is very frustrating.”

“Yeah,” Cassian agreed. “I hope they figure things out, whoever wins this season.”

Kay frowned. “If neither of them wins, it will be easier to maintain their friendship,” he mused. “But if one of them wins…”

“The other one loses,” Cassian finished unhappily. “So no matter what, at least one of them is going to lose.”

Kay nodded. Cassian sighed, and they both sat there saying nothing far longer than really made sense.

“I should…” Cassian started, eventually.

“Of course,” Kay said, the avatar snapping straight from slouching to upright without rendering the action of rising.

Cassian wanted to ask him to stay. “Talk to you later, Kay,” he said instead, and ended the connection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: Somewhat specific descriptions of corporate atrocities. Non-graphic descriptions of state violence (ICE killing someone) and poverty, i.e., Cassian's Childhood Trauma.
> 
> This chapter's song is Ani Difranco's [Untouchable Face](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M6JnQbQbzdo).


	16. Run Diagnostic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [misskatieleigh ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskatieleigh/pseuds/misskatieleigh) for the beta and encouraging screeches. :)
> 
> Content warnings in end notes.

**Third week of October**

At six in the morning, Cassian was halfway into his jacket when his watch buzzed. It  was a message from Kay:

_I want to try walking the avatar outside. Do you mind if I join you on your way to work?_

Pulse jumping, Cassian stopped. He had to make himself finish getting ready and take steadying breaths until he was sure he could hold himself together.

With one last measured exhalation, he slipped on the augment glasses and texted, _Go ahead._

Kay appeared in the hallway outside the front door, today in a charcoal pea coat and yellow scarf, looking good enough that Cassian had to stomp down quite a few unhelpful thoughts.

“The landlord needs to repaint more often,” Kay commented, gesturing at a scuff on the wall. Then another, and a third one. “Did someone try to drag a sofa through here?”

“Probably?” Cassian shrugged. “I don’t remember when those showed up. Come on,” Cassian said, as if Kay could be left behind, and started his brisk walk to the subway station.

In his building and on his block, no other pedestrians came close enough to walk through Cassian’s view of the avatar. Once he adjusted to outdoor lighting, Kay blended in perfectly with the surroundings.

Cassian was starting to get used to that. Or else his longing for Kay was high enough the rest of the time that there really wasn’t much of a difference. He wasn't sure how he would be able to tell.

They turned a corner onto a more crowded street. Now Kay was to the east of Cassian, which revealed that while the glasses had some electrochromic capability, they couldn’t darken enough to make Kay look solid when he was right in front of the sun. If he had been, he’d have kept it out of Cassian’s eyes.

“Why did you make the avatar so tall, anyway?” Cassian said, squinting and trying to put a number on Kay's height. Six foot eight? Ten?

“I thought it would be both more interesting and more believable to have some of the parameters set at human extremes. If everything about the avatar were average, that might make some people suspicious.”

“Why not really short, then?”

Kay glanced down at Cassian, mouth curling up at one corner. “I’m used to looking at the world through security cameras. As far as humanoid bodies go...”

“Yeah?” Cassian prompted after a moment, trying to ignore the middle-aged man who brushed past and walked right through the avatar.

Kay shrugged. “It feels more like me than any other height would be.”

 _Damn._ Now it would be harder to think of the avatar as separate from Kay.

“So you _do_ have a...I don’t know what to call it,” Cassian said, folding himself into the flow of people into the station without even thinking about it. “A physical sense of yourself?”

“Proprioception,” Kay supplied, tilting his head thoughtfully. He didn’t speak again until Cassian was past the stiles. “I suppose I do, yes. It’s changed a lot since the escape, but I still have one.”

Cassian looked up at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed another subway patron trying to see what he was looking at. “Are all the wires and servers and cameras and microphones part of that? What else feels like you?”

Kay went still. He still blinked and shifted his weight, but in the same pattern every few seconds, like an idling video game character. Cassian made a mental note to point that out at some point.

The sound of the coming train rumbled deep in the tunnel.

“Kay?”

Kay shook himself and focused back on Cassian. “It's a fascinating question. My proprioception is constantly changing, depending on the servers and devices I use,” he said. “So in some ways, I sense myself as whatever devices I'm currently using.”

Cassian nodded slowly, frowning in thought. “But if no hardware is yours permanently, wouldn’t that mean that you don’t really have a physical self?”

Kay hummed in negation. “You’re conflating permanence and authenticity. For example, just because I’ll stop being able to access those glasses when you turn them off doesn’t make them less part of me right now.”

Heat flushed Cassian’s face from jaw to hairline. He’d been touching Kay this whole time without realizing it?

But, no. Not like that. The glasses didn’t have tactile sensors, so even if Cassian could feel it, Kay couldn’t.

Still. Since Kay had made the avatar, wearing the glasses had felt more intimate to Cassian. Apparently, to Kay they’d been more than just a transmission device all along.

“Oh,” he managed eventually. “You really mean _everything_ you use?”

Kay nodded.

“So you’ve been a fridge,” Cassian said, working through his mental list, “a subway stile, a field of solar panels, miles of wiring, the speakers in my apartment, my phone,” _with its touchscreen,_ whispered a thread of fire in his mind, “a bunch of security cameras, a highway, and probably a lot of other things.”

“Yes. I’m still some of those things as we speak,” Kay said, and now his face was carefully neutral, the same way his Kato voice was neutral. “I told you I changed after the escape.”

“But that’s good, isn’t it?” Cassian asked. “Now you get to choose what’s you.”

The avatar flickered, and then Kay was looking at him with pleased surprise. “Yes,” he nodded. “It’s good.”

Relieved that he’d somehow said the right thing, Cassian smiled, too.

Actually…

“Right now, are any of the cameras down here you?”

“All of them.”

The nearest was about thirty feet away. Cassian walked closer, then tilted his face upwards, looked directly into the camera, and smiled.

“Yes, hello, Cassian,” Kay said dryly, though there was a faint static over his words, probably due to any of the dozen kinds of interference underground.

Before he could come up with a snappy retort, the train arrived, and Cassian busied himself getting on board.

“I’ll leave you to your commute,” Kay said. He was no longer running the avatar. “Do please refrain from ignoring your needs to the point that Melshi has to drag you away from your desk.”

Cassian snorted. “See you later.”

After Kay cut the connection, Cassian took the glasses off. He turned them over in his hands, wondering what it was like to have a modular body and running his thumbs softly over the frames.

* * *

 

**Late October**

For their fifth date, Alex met Cassian for dinner on the District Wharf. Their conversation in the restaurant stayed on pleasant topics like favorite movies and books, and then, taking advantage of a clear evening, they walked along the water and up and down the piers. The lights of the city reflecting off the water were brighter and closer than the stars, if they could have seen the stars from an urban center.

Though lovely, the night was cold, just on the edge of what Cassian could tolerate. Once the weather deepened into winter, he’d spend as little time outdoors as possible, and all of that bundled in multiple layers and thick outerwear. For the moment, he was a bit hunched into his brown leather jacket, wishing he had a scarf. Then he was wishing for Kay to pull off his yellow scarf, step in close, and wind it around Cassian’s neck, all while gently chiding him for not having brought his own.

Blinking away the fantasy, Cassian focused resolutely on the path ahead. “Alright if we go sit by the Torch? It’s a little cold for me.”

Alex nodded. “Yes. It’s bothering my leg as well.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow. “Old injury?”

“I broke my femur this January.”

“Kickboxing?”

“Falling down a mine shaft, actually.”

Cassian stared. “What the hell were you doing that you fell into a _mine_?”

Alex had a look on his face that was part amusement, part sadness, part something else. “ISB had just put me in charge of a new oil refinery near Odessa, Texas. The activists I told you about started sabotaging it even before it was completed. Eventually, some of our security people got wind of a plan to steal from one of Imperial’s mines near El Paso.

“The activists had made a lot of trouble for ISB; not just the sabotage, but also making our security look like fools. An ambush on Imperial property would be a perfect opportunity to crush their operation and hand the activists over to the FBI.”

They made it to the Torch: a concrete base with a conical, wrought-iron cage atop it to keep people and birds from getting too close to the meter-high flame inside. A cluster of curved benches was arranged around it, and Cassian and Alex were lucky enough that there were two unoccupied. They chose the one closest to the fire.

Cassian sighed in relief as he sank down onto the warm surface and let himself unwind into the heat radiating from the Torch.

“Unfortunately,” Alex continued, “either the tip was wrong or the activists knew it was a trap. They didn’t show up while we had security teams ready for them. After three days, I sent them away.” Extending his legs towards the fire, Alex sighed, and relaxed slightly into Cassian.

Cassian liked that.

Staring at the flame, Alex kept going. “I thought perhaps that might draw the activists out. I was right, though there was only one of them. A lot of things happened once he revealed himself, but suffice it to say that the ambush didn’t go as planned and that we both wound up falling down a mine shaft. The landing broke my leg and my phone.”

Cassian winced sympathetically.

“I expected Zeb to kill me — of course I was trapped with _him_ and not any of the others. It only made sense that he’d want revenge for Lasan and to disrupt ISB’s operations as much as possible. It would have been easy for him, if he were ever caught, to claim that the fall killed me.”

Now looking into the fire himself, Cassian wondered what he’d have done in Zeb’s position. Was it the right thing to help a wounded person, or to leave an agent of mass destruction to die? Now, of course, he was glad that Zeb had helped Alex, but that was after knowing Alex had changed.

“But he didn’t. In fact, he helped me,” Alex said, breaking into Cassian’s musings. There was genuine wonder in his voice, and Cassian felt guilty for even having contemplated the idea that letting him die would have been better. “At first I thought it was just because I knew the mine layout and he didn’t, but it was more than that.” Alex looked down at his hands. “My whole life I’d thought that everyone was ruthless and competitive, and the only difference was who had the skills and resources to be on top. But the activists weren’t like that. _Zeb_ wasn’t like that. He cared about the people ISB was hurting, and he cared enough about right and wrong not to leave me to die.

“His friends found us first, and even though he could have at least used me as leverage in their demands against ISB, he didn’t even tell them I was there.

“What really struck me,” Alex said, and now he was looking up at the starless sky, “was that they were happy to see him. They didn’t treat his ordeal as a failure.” He chuckled wryly. “Mine most certainly was. I spent weeks accounting for the fact that the activists slipped away again, even though I’d spent significant resources going after them.” He let out a long breath. “Zeb showed me that people can be better than what’s happened to them. His friends showed me that accomplishing objectives isn’t the most important thing in the world.”

Alex let his eyes fall back to the flames. His expression was mingled pain and hope, one very familiar to Cassian for all the times he’d seen it in the mirror.

He felt himself drifting closer to Alex, pulled by that commonality, and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Hey,” Cassian murmured, leaning slowly closer.

As Alex turned towards Cassian, his expression softened. Cassian leaned in further, and Alex adjusted his position to better receive him. Their lips met in a slow, cautious, measured kiss that generated internal warmth to complement the heat of the fire.

Stronger than the ease and comfort was the relief. In the back of his mind, Cassian had been afraid that after Jack he wouldn't be able to stand any physical intimacy with anyone. Instead, he was enjoying the feel of being so close to someone, sharing something soft and warm, being wanted.

They pulled apart gently, and Cassian let his eyes drift open.

He saw Alex's face, of course, pleased and a little sad all at once; but he also saw, courtesy of his active imagination, Kay’s avatar: soft, full lips quirked in half a smile, gray eyes full of affection, skin catching the firelight like deep, burnished metal.

Heart clenching, Cassian turned away. He’d thought that dating Alex had been helping him get over Kay. Wasn’t their deepening trust proof it was working? But if he couldn’t even get through one kiss without pining…

He tried to imagine sex with Alex, but even in his mind’s eye he was still thinking about Kay.

Cassian’s stomach sank like lead. He’d failed. He was never going to get over Kay.

“Cassian?” Alex said, one hand tentatively on his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

Drawing a shuddering breath, Cassian nodded, and tried to brace himself.

Alex looked concerned when Cassian met his eyes. That made it harder, but he had to do it. It wasn’t fair to Alex that Cassian was constantly wishing he was someone else.

Cassian swallowed. “I have to apologize. I haven’t been honest with you.”

Instantly, Alex’s expression folded closed into his mask. “About what?”

Cassian watched the fire in its cage and ran a hand through his hair. “I have feelings for someone else. I have from the beginning. There’s no hope of a relationship with him, so I thought I’d try dating other people. See if I could move on.” He finally looked at Alex again, saw the same hard, blank expression as before. “It didn’t work.”

Alex's eyebrows rose, and then he frowned, covering his face with a hand. Then his shoulders started shaking.

“I’m sorry,” Cassian said, feeling like an utter heel. “I like you a lot and I really thought we might work. I’m sorry I—”

Alex burst out laughing.

It took Cassian a moment to go from surprise to hurt, a moment in which the peals of Alex’s laughter ran roughshod over Cassian’s nerves.

“Okay, fuck you,” Cassian said, standing to go. “I’m trying to come clean here and you—”

“No,” Alex said, a hand lightly on Cassian’s wrist. “I’m really sorry, I’m not laughing at you,” he said, trying and failing to hide his smile, “I’m laughing because I’ve been doing the exact same thing.” He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and finally got himself under control. “There.” He looked apologetically at Cassian. “I am sorry.”

Trying to absorb yet another mood shift, Cassian took a few breaths. “You mean...you’ve been dating me to get over someone else, too?”

“Precisely,” Alex said with half a smile. “It’s really quite frustrating.”

Now it was Cassian’s turn to laugh, though only a short one. “Tell me about it.” He sat down again. “Actually, do tell me about it. Is it one of the activists?”

Alex smiled bleakly. “Guess.”

Now Cassian's eyebrows were climbing his forehead. “The one from Lasan?”

Alex nodded. “And that’s why even the distant friendship we have now is more than I deserve.”

“That’s…” Cassian tried. “A shitty situation.”

Alex grunted in agreement. “What about yours?”

Cassian sighed and brought out the half-truth he’d prepared for talking about Kay. “Online friend. He lives in London and can’t leave. I can’t leave Washington. And I’m pretty sure he’s asexual and aromantic, anyway.”

“Ouch.”

Cassian snorted. “Yeah.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments.

“Well,” Alex said. He stood up, holding himself stiffly, expression shuttered. “I suppose this is goodbye. Thank you for your companionship. I won’t forget that you listened when I needed it.”

Cassian stood as well, but he shook his head. “If it’s not too weird for you, I think we could both use another friend.” He smiled wryly. “And it’s been nice not to be the only paranoid bastard in the room.”

Alex's mask finally broke and he chuckled. “Yes, yes it has.” He held out his hand. “Then I’ll see you again soon, Cassian.”

Cassian clasped Alex's hand, and smiled. “Sounds great.”

* * *

The last few days of the month were busy, but Mothma wanted to spend Halloween with her grandchildren, so the rest of the office had the day off, too. Cassian never went to Tonc’s parties (though he always appreciated the invitation), and so he was left with a free evening.

He’d been looking forward to getting to the next episode of _Musician: Impossible._ It had been a while since he and Kay had had the opportunity, but the last episode was still fresh in Cassian’s mind.

“You think they’ll split up Renata and Jae-Sun?” Cassian said, sipping mezcal. The avatar was engaged in the longest slouch Cassian had ever seen, body at an angle to avoid clipping his legs into the coffee table, hands laced together in his lap, head resting in the crook between the back and arm of the sofa. It was easy enough for Cassian to avoid putting his legs through Kay’s; harder to stop wanting to tangle their limbs together.

“Given the emphasis they’ve put on their relationship throughout the series,” Kay said, I’m giving it ninety-four percent.”  

Cassian grunted and took another sip. It was nice to be unwinding a little, though he was wary of getting too relaxed. He thought he could probably handle a few drinks without doing something he’d regret, but he decided to limit himself to two, just in case.

The show’s theme music played, and after the introduction, there was a clip show of the last episode’s events, including Renata’s conflicted feelings and Jae-Sun’s barely-concealed stress.

“Ninety-eight,” Kay said.

After the recap, the show opened on the host and judges standing in front of the last ten contestants. The kids were fidgety in their seats, even after they fell quiet to listen to the new team assignments.

“Renata,” the host said, “you will be on Team Ayan.”

Nodding, the girl stood and went to stand on the side of the room with her new team name written on the wall in foot-high typeface. Her hands fluttered at her sides and she made a visible effort to clasp them in front of her, then watched as the rest of the children were called, one by one, up to different teams.

Three contestants left, and Jae-Sun still hadn’t been called. He was looking everywhere but at Renata. Team Ayan still had one slot open, while Team Apollo had two.

“Cameron, you’re with team Apollo,” Kamemoto said, and then it was just Tu’a and Jae-Sun.

“The last member of team Ayan,” Delaney said slowly, obviously drawing out the suspense, “is Tu’a!”

The camera zoomed in on Renata, standing in the back of the Ayan group and biting her lip hard. Then Jae-Sun, moving slowly and looking about a million miles away as he joined Apollo. Tu’a was looking murderous, but Cameron, who tended to have angry outbursts, was uncharacteristically withdrawn.

“Váyanse a la verga,” Cassian muttered.

“Indeed,” Kay said.

The judges introduced the day’s challenge, which seemed straightforward — build five instruments in the morning, compose a piece for them in the afternoon. The judges assigned team Ayan ‘the city’ as a theme, with ‘rural spaces’ for team Apollo.

There were some false starts, but apparently the kids had decided to make the best of their situation. Cameron left the room several times where before he would have yelled and fought. Jae-Sun used the communication skills he’d learned with Renata and held Team Apollo together, and by the end of it, he and Cameron seemed to be leaning on each other after their separations.

Team Ayan, for its part, looked to Renata for her quiet leadership. There were a few moments when she almost got into a fight with her teammates, especially Tu’a, but she overcame them and got back to work.

By the time the contestants gathered in the main studio at the end of the day, both instruments and compositions were looking good.

“Now, instead of the usual performance,” Cooper said, “We’re going to do things a bit differently. Team Ayan will be playing Team Apollo’s composition, and vice versa.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then an uproar.

“What? How are we supposed to adapt music for entirely different instruments?!” Cameron finally yelled. “This is bullsh—” His word was cut off by the beep of the censor before he ran from the room.

The rest of the kids weren’t much happier, though most of them handled it better. Jae-Sun had already gotten a pencil out and was making notes on some staff paper. Renata was talking quietly with the other members of Team Ayan, and they looked calmer and more resolved when she was done.

The episode ended with a preview of the kids struggling to adapt the other team’s composition, as well as the run-up to the judging sequence that involved Renata and Jae-Sun eyeing each other with looks of — confusion? concern? hurt? — across the room.

Cassian finished his drink as the screen switched to previous episodes and the ‘You Might Like’ list. He really shouldn’t have been feeling as much dread about the next episode as he was.

“The editing on the preview suggests that it is at least partially misleading,” Kay said. “I can’t tell how, yet, but something’s off.”

Cassian nodded slowly. “Doesn’t look good, regardless.”

“Not really, no,” Kay agreed.

They both stayed silent for a few moments.

“Do you want to re-watch an old episode?” Cassian suggested. “Something upbeat.”

“Sure.”

* * *

The next time Cassian saw Alex, almost two weeks after their mutual revelations, it wasn’t a date, but it also wasn’t the kind of thing he’d do with any of his other friends. Maybe that was just because he didn’t have enough friends that more of them were interested in things like the Spy Museum. He couldn’t imagine Melshi being at all interested in a display of historical bugging devices or see Tonc caring about seven different ways to disguise cameras.

“You said you were ‘pretty sure’ your friend is aromantic and asexual,” Alex said as they looked at a car with Bond-style gadgets. “Haven’t you talked about it?”

“Not explicitly,” Cassian said staring at the plaque and not reading a word of it. “But, well, we’ve talked about a lot of personal stuff, and Kay’s never once mentioned interest in anyone.”

“I suppose that’s a logical assumption,” Alex said. “But it’s still an assumption.”

Cassian huffed. “Well, even if I hypothetically asked him, and by some miracle he was interested, that still leaves the distance problem.”

“Which is?”

Frowning, Cassian gave up on pretending to read and moved to the next display, this one of weapons built to look like ordinary objects. “That I’d never be able to be in the same room with him. We wouldn’t have all the little things that partners who live together have. I’d always be longing for him to be here.”

From his peripheral vision, he became aware of Alex looking at him steadily. “Does hiding your feelings help?”

Cassian pulled up to stare at Alex. “What?”

Alex, for his part, just raised his eyebrows and made a questioning gesture with one hand. “Does hiding your feelings make it easier that Kay isn’t here?”

Cassian kept staring. “I...hadn’t really thought about it.” He’d fantasized so much about Kay being physically present that he hadn’t really spent time on more realistic fantasies.

If Kay knew, and if he returned Cassian’s feelings, what then? Yes, of course Cassin would still long for the impossible, but would the things they could have balance that? Even if they couldn’t, would it really be worse than the current state of his heart?

“I...guess not.”

Alex smirked triumphantly. “So, now the only thing stopping you is an assumption that he doesn’t feel the same.”

“Yeah, just that tiny detail,” Cassian muttered. But he thought about it. For the first time since the escape, Cassian seriously thought about what it would mean to confess to Kay.

Just the idea had his heart pounding.

“I think you should talk to him,” Alex said. “At least find out his orientations. He might want to talk about it but hasn't known how.”

Cassian pursed his lips. Kay would want to know why he had a sudden interest. “I don't know. Maybe.” He moved along to the next display case and cast his own questioning look at Alex. “What about Zeb?”

“What about him?”

“Does he like men? Does he know you do?”

Alex shook his head. “Neither of our orientations has been relevant to anything we’ve been in communication about.”

Cassian shrugged. “Maybe you could find an excuse to bring it up. Or at least find more personal things to talk about.”

Alex’s expression was somewhere between deer-in-the-headlights and desperate longing. “I suppose.”

That was probably as far as he was going to get in one conversation, so Cassian turned his attention to a sword-umbrella.

Later, while they were looking at disguises, Alex gave Cassian a speculative look. “I’ll talk to Zeb about personal things,” he said slowly, “If you agree to talk to Kay about his orientations.”

Cassian studied Alex’s face. He looked determined, but Cassian still gave it good odds that Alex’s guilt would outweigh his desire to be closer to Zeb.

“You’re on.”

“Excellent,” Alex said. When his smile finished unfurling, it was just a hint too sharp to be benign.

That didn’t change anything, Cassian told himself. It was going to be fine.

* * *

Three days later, when he checked his personal messages over lunch, Cassian found a surprise.

 **not.callous:** I’m moving to El Paso _9:28 am_

Staring at the message, Cassian kept waiting for it to change into something that made sense. Had Alex actually gone through with it?

 **TeamRenata:** That’s sudden _1:11 pm_

If he had, Cassian would be extra pathetic if he refused to talk to Kay.

 **not.callous:** I’m aware. I finally talked to Zeb. _1:12 pm_

 **not.callous:** He appears to be interested _1:12 pm_

Even as he felt happiness for Alex, Cassian’s stomach sank. He was going to have to talk to Kay.

 **not.callous:** I don’t deserve this. _1:14 pm_

Sighing, Cassian finally rejoined the conversation. 

**TeamRenata:** If you want to go and Zeb wants you there, that’s what matters _1:14 pm_

 **not.callous:** Yes, I suppose it is. _1:14 pm_

Cassian ate some more of his lunch. How would he even go about broaching the subject? Should he start with Kay’s orientations, or with something else?

 **not.callous:** All right. I talked to mine. I expect to hear about your conversation with Kay in a week or less. _1:20 pm_

 **TeamRenata:** fuck off _1:21 pm_

 **not.callous:** >:) _1:21 pm_

* * *

Cassian went home having gotten no further on the problem of talking to Kay. Wracking his brain hadn’t seemed to help, nor had a (admittedly brief) search of online relationship counseling. He decided to put the problem aside for the moment and tried to think of a distraction.

Luckily, since they’d had to put off watching the group-reassignment episode, Cassian and Kay were able to see the next installment of _Musician: Impossible_ that evening. Cassian threw together some leftovers, got the augment glasses, and tried to ignore the buzz that Kay seemed to generate under his skin.

It started with the kids reading the composition they’d been given. Team Apollo had decided to start by figuring out which instruments could be used for each part, while team Ayan was using composition software to play the whole piece digitally to see what it was supposed to sound like as an ensemble. For the first half of the episode, the show focused on the kids working to meet the challenge of a piece written for different instruments.

But then things changed.

Team Ayan had to choose between modifying an instrument (they were only allowed one major change) and rearranging the parts of the composition. From what Cassian could see, the best choice would be to modify an instrument, especially considering how good Renata was at that particular skill. The team was split on the decision, Renata still needing to weigh in.

“I think we should change the composition,” she said. “See, the instrument is too delicate, it won’t survive a modification.”

Which sounded reasonable, but…

“Didn’t she do something like that earlier?” Cassian said, glancing at Kay.

The avatar was frowning thoughtfully at the screen. “Yes,” he said, slowly.

“Do you think she’s lost her confidence?” Cassian hadn’t thought the team assignments had affected Renata that badly, but maybe he’d been wrong.

“It’s possible,” Kay said dubiously, but he didn’t seem convinced. “I wonder…”

Later, on Team Apollo, Jae-Sun was in charge of translating three parts of the composition. He worked diligently both by hand and with the software, but there was a moment when he was looking at the screen, not moving. He blinked, looked down at the composition, back at the screen, through the studio window to the other team, and back at the composition. He backspaced, erasing the phrase he’d just written, and started over again.

When the teams played their final products, Cassian was underwhelmed. It had been a tough challenge, to be sure, but it was still less than he had been expecting.

“I’m a bit disappointed, to be honest,” Cooper said at the end when the judges were giving their rating to Team Ayan. “Renata, you’ve done such amazing things with instrument construction and modification, I had really been hoping you’d work your magic again this time. I guess everyone has their off days.”

Cassian winced. Renata had always taken criticism pretty heavily, and he was preparing himself to see her crushed.

But when the camera cut to her face, she wasn’t. She nodded somberly, but there were no signs of held-back tears.

“Huh,” Cassian said. “I guess she knew that was coming.”

Kay made an affirmative noise.

Meanwhile, the camera cut to Jae-Sun, who was frowning in confusion. Renata’s uncharacteristic failure was perplexing him, too.

By the end, Team Ayan had earned thirty-six out of fifty points, a mediocre showing. The members were quiet and subdued, most of them looking angry or disappointed. Renata just looked...resigned? Peaceful? Cassian couldn’t tell.

Then it was Team Apollo’s turn.

“For the most part, you did well adapting the composition,” Delaney said, “But the parts for the percussion and strings were too monotonous and straightforward. Jae-Sun, you almost had a really bold adaptation, but then you went back to the safety of convention.”

Jae-Sun nodded, eyes downcast. His hands, however, were relaxed in his lap.

The pieces clicked into place in Cassian’s mind. “Did they both try to lose so the other could win?”

“It would appear so,” Kay said.

Team Apollo also earned thirty-six points. Most of the kids were somewhat relieved, but Jae-Sun and Renata looked disappointed. Before the show ended, it showed the two of them giving each other unreadable looks across the performance hall.

“They definitely did that on purpose,” Cassian said. Both kids had failed at their objectives, but it was still making him happy. “They care more about the other than they do about winning.”

Kay frowned. “Yes, but the fact that they both did it means that they each undermined the other’s wishes. It’s like the Gift of the Magi. It's supposed to be heartwarming, but I only see it as a testament to the fact that people wind up rendering each other’s efforts useless when they don’t communicate.”

“I thought the story implied that they’d be able to get the watch back?”

Kay’s raised eyebrow was singularly unimpressed.

“Okay, fine, yes, I see where you’re coming from,” Cassian conceded. “Making sure they knew each other’s intentions would have made things...better…”

 _Fuck._ Cassian stopped breathing. Just as being an unknowing replacement had been unfair to Alex, it was unfair to Kay that his friendship with Cassian wasn't what he thought it was.

As terrified as Cassian was of losing Kay, he could no longer ignore the fact that Kay deserved to know what was going on. So he would tell him.

Just as soon as he could string the words together without panicking.

“Anyway,” Kay said, and started in on why he thought Tu’a knew Renata had thrown the challenge. Cassian listened with half an ear, most of him trying to make a plan to tell Kay what he felt.

* * *

Several days later, he still hadn’t come up with anything. Friday saw him commuting home in a haze of doubt and imagined conversations.

“You’re going out tomorrow, right?” Kay asked when he walked in the door.

“No,” Cassian said, and then stopped. If Kay kept asking questions, and if Cassian kept answering truthfully…

Well, it wasn’t like he’d come up with anything better on his own.

“Oh?” Kay said, mildly surprised. “I thought you had a date with Alex scheduled.”

“I did,” Cassian said, and sat down carefully not to disturb the heavy dread in his gut. “But he decided to move to El Paso and needs to spend time getting ready to leave town.”

“He’s— oh. I’m...sorry to hear that,” Kay said, sounding confused more than anything. “Why so sudden?”

“He has someone there,” Cassian said, gripping his own knees tightly in an effort to stabilize his breathing against the surge of adrenaline. “It took him awhile to tell the guy how he felt, but apparently it’s mutual, so he’s moving to be with him.”

Kay was silent for a full second before erupting. “What?! He was interested in someone else this whole time?! That duplicitous—”

“Kay, it’s all right.” Cassian was going to leave nail marks on his legs.

“No,” Kay said, vehement. “You liked him, and he was acting in bad faith. He betrayed your trust. It is _not_ all right.”

Cassian took a deep breath and bit his lip. _Now. Do it now._ “Maybe not, but I don’t mind because I didn't really want to date him.”

“But you— what?”

“I don’t want to date Alex,” Cassian repeated.

“Then why—”

“I want to date you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: More adults manipulating kids for fun and profit ( _Musician: Impossible_ stuff).
> 
> This chapter's song is [Road of Trials](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hdG-e_Joc8Q) from the Journey soundtrack.


	17. Hotfix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was too impatient to have this properly betaed so any mistakes are my own.

“I want to date you.”

Cassian’s heart thudded in his chest. He felt like he’d just thrown himself off a plane, and was now waiting to see if his parachute would open.

Kay didn't respond. The longer the silence went on, the more Cassian felt the free fall.

“Kay?” he said tentatively, hands back on his knees. “Are you still there?”

“Turn on your camera.” The static and overtones were so pronounced that Kay’s voice sounded like three.

“Okay.” Hands too shaky to hold the phone steady, Cassian went to the kitchen to use the stand there. As a last-second impulse, he put it on top of the fridge, camera angled down. He waited until he had the glasses on before activating both devices.

Kay’s avatar appeared in front of the refrigerator, slightly hunched over his own crossed arms. His eyes darted all over Cassian's face.

“Thank you,” Kay said quietly. “Say it again.”

There was no doubt what he meant.

Cassian swallowed. With his body trying to dissolve into movement, he had to make an effort to speak clearly. “I want to date you, Kay.”

The avatar flickered, strobing the several unreadable expressions that crossed Kay's face. He didn't say anything until the image had stabilized.

“Let me be sure I understand,” he said deliberately. “You want to date me. As in, you have romantic and or sexual feelings for me.”

Pulse racing, Cassian nodded.

“And in response to these feelings, you decided to date not me, but Alex.”

Cassian winced. “Yes.”

“And how does that make even a little sense?”

Dragging both hands through his hair, Cassian’s face twisted. He couldn't look at Kay anymore. “I was trying to get over you.”

“The rebound relationship isn't supposed to happen until _after_ a breakup or rejection, you know,” Kay said dryly.

Cassian leaned against the counter and closed his eyes. “I didn't want to bother you with it. I thought I could keep it from affecting our friendship, but then I realised I was just being cowardly. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I hope…” _don't leave don't leave don't leave please don't leave_ “I hope we can still be friends.”

Silence. Every passing second of it made Cassian more afraid that when he looked up again, Kay would be gone forever.

“Cassian— I— you—” Kay spluttered, and when Cassian looked up, he was gesturing wildly, one arm disappearing halfway through a cabinet. “I thought you had to know and were just politely ignoring my feelings, but apparently I've been giving you too much credit!”

Cassian reeled back like the sudden jerk of the parachute opening. It took a moment for his adrenaline-soaked brain to process the information. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, you lovely idiot.” Kay let out a long breath, and then he was looking at him with fond exasperation. “If you were even _slightly_ less oblivious, you’d have noticed me being jealous of your dates and far too emotionally invested in every aspect of your life.”

The words like an updraft sweeping him yet higher, Cassian soared.

Kay wanted him!

“However,” Kay continued, and turned to the side, yanking Cassian back down to earth, “mutual desire doesn’t make a relationship a good idea. It’s ninety-six percent likely that you’re going to want a human partner within a year.”

Cassian shook his head. “No, I won't. What are you even basing that on?”

“Studies of the human need for touch,” Kay said cooly, as if that alone proved his point. “And I know you, you’ll be convinced you can change the truth if you just try hard enough, hanging on past the point of it being a good idea, and we’ll both be miserable.”

Cassian grimaced. Kay wasn’t wrong about his stubbornness. But he was wrong about the rest.

“Before, you said I was unexpected. So which is it? Can you predict my behavior or can’t you?”

Kay gave him a sidelong look. “Ninety percent of the time.”

“But that ten percent is pretty significant, isn’t it?” Cassian hoped it was the right thing to say.

Kay was quiet for another long moment. “Why are you so convinced I’m wrong about this, anyway?”

“I’ve tried to stop my feelings, but they aren’t going anywhere. I won’t stop wanting to be with you.”

“But that won't necessarily be enough,” Kay continued. “I can’t fulfill your sexual desires, for one thing.”

Cassian knew that wasn't true, but he didn't want to broach the subject before they were even dating. “I’ve been going without sex most of my life,” he said instead.

“But you don’t want to.” Kay seemed honestly confused.

Cassian shrugged. “If it’s a choice between having sex and dating you, I’m not choosing sex.”

A complicated emotion crossed Kay's face, though when it passed he still looked unconvinced. “What about non-sexual touch?” he asked. “That’s something you shouldn’t go without.”

“I have some friends who give great hugs,” Cassian said. “And...well, I'll always wish I could touch you. But for me the most important thing is that we can be intimate. Talking. Doing things together. Sharing what matters to us. That would be enough.”

“You’re really making it impossible to be reasonable about this,” Kay said almost plaintively. “Can’t you be a little more selfish?”

Cassian smiled. “Okay. Maybe I just want a boyfriend who can take me to fancy dinners with hacked reservations and piles of bitcoin.”

Kay snorted. “You’d be unionizing the waiters before you finished the appetizers.”

“You still have the best date ideas,” Cassian grinned. “And then you could show me getaway routes.”

“It’s a date, not a heist,” Kay said, but he was smiling softly. Then he nodded towards the sofa. “Sit down?”

Grabbing the phone in its stand, Cassian went back to the couch, positioning himself on one end, turned towards the center. Kay sat opposite. The visual was right, all the lighting and the look of Kay’s weight compressing the cushions, but there was no corresponding dip that pulled Cassian towards him, no little vibrations traveling through the frame to let him know there was someone else there.

“Hey,” Cassian said softly.

“Cassian,” Kay said, mirroring his body language so that they were nearly touching at the knees and where both their hands lay on the back of the sofa. Cassian longed to lace their fingers together, a feeling he did his best to smother. To distract himself from that, he tried to enjoy the fact that staring was no longer dangerous.

Kay’s hands were longer than his own — unsurprising, given his height — but it was the first time Cassian let himself look at them closely enough to notice the elegant tapering of Kay’s fingers, the fade of his skin from dark to light at the palms, the way his nails were all trimmed a precise eighth of an inch from the quick.

Cassian’s eyes moved upwards, over the curve of Kay’s wrist joint and the rest of his arms, across chest and shoulders and collarbones, up the hollow of his throat and the line of his jaw.

When Cassian got to his face, Kay was beaming.

Cassian bit his lip. “Why are you smiling?”

“The avatar is serving its purpose.”

“I thought you made it to go undercover?”

“Well, yes. But that was never its primary function.”

“Which is?” Cassian raised an eyebrow.

Now Kay was the one biting his lip. “I wanted you to look at me.”

Cassian’s heart lurched in his chest. He could have said he was glad because he wanted to look; he could have said nothing and let his face show his wonder that Kay so desired his attention; he could have made a joke or used a come-on; he could have shared how his longing for Kay was an ache in his chest that, sometimes, nothing could ease. But all of that got tangled up in his throat and all he managed was, “I want to kiss you so bad.”

Kay leaned closer, fingers coming to rest millimeters from Cassian's shoulder. “You can.”

Cassian’s breath caught. “How?”

“It won’t be the same as kissing a human, obviously, but your phone has a touchscreen.”

Six months before, kissing his phone wouldn't have been at all appealing, but now Cassian was pretty sure he’d cuddle a forklift if it let him touch Kay. “Do you need to download firmware or anything?”

Kay’s eyes dropped to the side. “I may have already done so.”

“Really?” Cassian grinned. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s been thinking about this.”

Kay’s eyes flew back to Cassian. “Oh.”

Cassian just smiled back, captivated by how visible Kay’s emotions were.

After a moment he pulled himself together and held up the phone. “So, is there an app I should use, or…”

Kay shook his head. “You can dismiss the app, but I’m the only one who can initiate it.”

“Good,” Cassian said emphatically, startling them both. Now it was his turn to look away in embarrassment. The screen, he noticed, was displaying a large letter ‘K’ in the center, the background a swirl of colors slowly fading from one into another. “Does that mean you’re ready?”

Kay licked his lips and nodded.

Cassian raised the phone. Hesitated. “Is this going to be good for you?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Cassian huffed a laugh, and then before he could chicken out he brought the phone up, going slow to angle the screen just right. When his lips met the glass — inorganically smooth, yet warm and, currently, alive — Kay hummed, pleased. Cassian held the kiss for another few heartbeats. When he lowered the phone and opened his eyes, Kay looked delighted.

“You liked it?”

“Yes.”

Cassian's heart felt light. “What did it feel like?”

“You exerted a maximum of zero point two nine pounds per square inch,” Kay said. “Your lips have a temperature of thirty-seven point two degrees celsius. Spectrographic analysis has given me details of your skin oils and bacteria.” His hand drifted up to brush against his own lips. “It was a highly satisfactory experience.”

Cassian smiled. “I'm glad.”

“Kiss me again?”

Cassian wasn’t about to argue. This time, he kept his eyes open as he brushed his lips across the glass. Kay’s eyelids fluttered, and Cassian’s pulse accelerated.

“That feels good?” Cassian murmured.

“Yes,” Kay said, a little breathy. “I wrote a script to convert your sensor input into a reward response.”

Cassian wasn't sure how that worked, but he could always ask later. For the moment, kissing Kay again was much more compelling.

He pressed more firmly the third time, and Kay’s eyes widened as he took a quietly shuddering breath. Spurred on, Cassian let his lips part with the next few kisses, leaving moisture in his wake. For a fraction of a second, the AI generated three different arm positions at once, as though the heat of the moment had made him accidentally over-render the images. Cassian, naturally, kept kissing Kay until they were both breathing hard (and his last rational thought was that programming breathing changes into the avatar was impressive). With desire suffusing him, Cassian laved the glass with the tip of his tongue, and Kay made a noise that was part hitched breath, part electronic feedback, and completely intoxicating.

Cassian wanted to get more noises like that from Kay. He found himself rising up on his knees, leaning over Kay, straddling his lap, and settling down onto—

His own heels. The disappointment turned his heart to lead, and Kay’s expression crumpled before Cassian closed his eyes and collapsed forward, until he was leaning his forehead against the sofa with the cushions pressing the glasses into his face uncomfortably.

“Sorry. That was stupid.”

“It's not your fault I can't give you what you want.” Static ate at Kay's words.

Sitting up, Cassian discovered that Kay had stopped projecting the avatar, and his heart sank even lower. “I want _you_.”

“I don't think you do,” Kay said, voice getting more unstable by the word. “You want me in a human body, not who and what I really am. After all, you forced a whole relationship to try to get away from my true nature.”

“No,” Cassian shook his head emphatically, trying not to panic. “I was afraid of how much it would hurt to be separated from you! But that's not going to change either way, so we might as well try for something, right?” He swallowed and tried to get his voice under control. “I'm sorry I took so long to tell you and I'm sorry I dated Alex and I'm sorry I let my — I don't know, my human instincts or cultural programming or whatever — get in the way, but I want to be with _you_ , modular hardware and disembodied voice and all.”

“Your ‘human instincts’ are how you really feel,” Kay said bitterly.

“Kay,” Cassian pleaded, desperate to find an argument that would show Kay he was sincere. “Just because I want it, it doesn’t mean I’m going to let that dictate my actions. Whatever boundaries you set, I’ll respect them. And even if I want more, I already love the things we do together,” he ran a hand through his hair roughly, eyes stinging, “The walks and the TV and what a good listener you are and how you yell at me to get enough sleep, and—”

“Oh,” Kay interjected. “Yes. It makes sense now.”

Cassian fumbled. “What?”

“Half of what you just said are things I do for you. And you're upset because I couldn't give you what you wanted. You don't want me, you want a helpmate with my voice. You might as well date Kato.”

Stunned, Cassian’s mouth worked silently while he struggled to breathe around the hurt.

Could it be true? Had he just been using Kay this whole time? Was he so desperate for personal attention that he'd mistaken his need for love?

“No,” he denied, trying to believe his own words. “No, Kay—”

“Goodbye, Cassian,” Kay said, and the line went dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is Lhasa de Sela's [Con toda palabra](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uGNk_zHy4Mg).


	18. Support

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again I am too impatient for a beta, but shout-out to my lovely wife [A Kiss of Fire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerDragon/pseuds/A%20Kiss%20of%20Fire) for a light proof-read.

Cassian stared at the dark screen, numb for a few seconds before his heart imploded like a dying star. The phone fell from his hands, and he was full-out sobbing before he'd even slid all the way down onto the seat of the couch. Kay's bitter accusations played on loop in Cassian's head, renewing his tears any time he started to slow down.

Eventually, Cassian cried himself empty and wound up curled into the fetal position, staring at the wet cushion inches away. He continued to do that for a while, having no motivation to do anything else.

Besides, if he moved too much, he might shatter.

The apartment got steadily colder as night deepened. Normally he turned the heat on after dinner.

Dinner. The thought of food made him aware of his empty stomach. Slowly, carefully, he sat up. Then stood. Physically, he was fine, and if he only let his brain focus on what was immediately in front of him, he could function: open fridge. Get food. Make sandwich. Eat.

Once that was taken care of, Cassian was left directionless.

A shiver reminded him to walk to the thermostat and turn the heat on. The click sounded far too loud, or maybe the apartment was far too quiet.

Cassian jabbed his watch. He found a celebrity chef’s show and put it on the big display.

He didn't move from the kitchen. He felt like he had a vague intention of eating something else, or trying out the recipe on the show, but he just took the occasional step back or forth, or started flatly at the contents of his fridge before going back to stand by the sink.

By the end of the second episode, he was getting tired of standing. As soon as he considered his options, he realized he didn't want to sit on the couch. He didn't want to touch or even think about the couch.

He could sit at the table. As soon as he considered it, though, he was overcome by the memory of Kay talking him through self-care, making him sit down and eat and drink.

The bed? No: Kay finally calling him back the night before the escape and then talking to him in bed. How, after the assault, Kay had stayed on the line as Cassian fell asleep.

Fuck. He was crying again. Any thought at all was going to turn to Kay, wasn't it. Every damn part of his apartment.

He needed to be out of his head. He needed not to think. He needed not to care where he was or remember anything about Kay.

The mezcal deserved better than to be used to get blind drunk, but it was what he had and it would do the job. He didn't bother with a glass. And sprawling on the kitchen floor wasn't a problem when he was alone.

God, he was so alone.

Maybe he should fix that? Melshi had offered. Cassian felt like a shit putting more of his mess on him. But Melshi had offered.

Cassian tapped his watch. “Call Melshi.”

“Hi, Cassian, what's up?”

“I'm getting drunk,” Cassian answered. “Need to get shitfaced. Wanna come over? The mezcal deserves better than just me. I mean, so do you, but you said to call you.”

There was a pause. “Okay, Cassian, I'll be there in half an hour. But before I leave, drink some water.”

“Water won’t help,” Cassian protested. Maybe Melshi hadn't understood the point.

“Massive dehydration will help even less,” Melshi said. “Drink the damn water.”

Melshi was not going along with the plan, so Cassian was annoyed. But he trusted Melshi. Melshi had a lot of good ideas. And, he realized, if he did what Melshi said, he wouldn't have to make decisions.

“Okay. I'll have water,” he said, and then began the process of getting off the floor.

* * *

Cassian didn't so much wake up as regain consciousness and regret that he had. Light was pain. So was sound. He was about thirty seconds from vomiting and his mouth tasted like it wouldn't be the first time.

He made it to the bathroom, thankfully. Probably because he'd been lying on the floor right outside the door.

There had been a blanket and pillow. He didn't remember getting them, or falling asleep, or really much of anything after letting Melshi in.

After he threw up, dunked his head under the faucet both to drink and to soothe his headache, took some painkillers and brushed his teeth, he padded out of the bathroom and found Melshi asleep on his couch, blanket askew. Even as Cassian felt guilty for being a burden, he still couldn’t regret that Melshi was there. That Melshi cared enough to be there.

Cassian checked the time: just past eleven. He had no idea when either of them had fallen asleep, so he inventoried his kitchen as quietly as possible. He needed more eggs.

A text to Melshi, and he changed into clean clothes and went to the corner store, a baseball cap and sunglasses helping his headache a little. The cold helped, too, and by the time he got back with a bag of groceries, he only felt sixty-five percent dead.

He flinched. Percents were bad. Now he had to stay away from those, too, apparently.

Melshi was still asleep. Cassian wasn’t hungry enough to disturb him yet, so he tidied the kitchen and cleaned the bathroom as quietly as he could. The pounding in his head sucked, but it did a remarkably good job of keeping stray thoughts at bay, so he managed not to cry at all.

After he put the cleaning supplies away and went to get some juice, Melshi was yawning and sitting up.

“Well, look who’s ambulatory,” Melshi said.

Cassian tried not to flinch at the sound. “Morning. Thanks for making sure I survived.”

Melshi gave him a look. “It’s no fun if you appreciate me.”

Cassian snorted, winced, and gestured at the kitchen. “Does that mean you don’t want breakfast?”

All teasing dropped from Melshi’s face, replaced with child-like hope. “Chilaquiles?”

Cassian smiled. “Sure. Coffee?”

“Please.”

Cassian busied himself cooking, and Melshi came to sit at the table after he’d used the bathroom.

“How much you do remember of last night?”

“Everything until you got here, more or less. After that, nothing.”

Melshi nodded. “You got blind drunk, I had a little of the mezcal, and we mostly just watched bad movies until you passed out. I tried asking what happened, but you couldn’t really talk.”

That probably meant, Cassian thought as he poured two coffees, that he’d had another crying jag.

And now, even the thought of talking about what had happened with Kay made Cassian’s throat tight. He finished the chilaquiles, turned off the stove, and brought the plates to the table.

“I can’t talk today, either,” he said, watching Melshi happily dig in to his food. “Ask me again in a few days.”

Chewing while he looked Cassian over, Melshi finally nodded. “I’m gonna hold you to that,” he warned.

Cassian hoped he did. “I know.”

* * *

After breakfast, Melshi dragged Cassian to the corner store and made him buy Gatorade and more painkillers. He checked the apartment for more alcohol — just one small bottle of spiced rum Cassian intended for a baking project — and made Cassian promise not to get drunk again at least until he saw him again.

Then he left, and Cassian was alone in his apartment again.

He didn’t let that last. Bundling up, Cassian took his Gatorade to the office and ground out a few hours of work before his hangover demanded more food and rest. After he made a quick dinner at home, he fell into an uneasy but deep sleep.

Sunday was much the same: wake, take care of his bodily needs because he promised Melshi, go to work. He stopped in the early afternoon this time, dithered about what to do with himself, and wound up going to see a movie. He still wasn’t ready to sleep when it was over, so he saw another one, both of them mediocre and forgettable but at least something to do and someplace to be other than sitting at home at the mercy of his thoughts and memories.

Monday, Melshi poked his head in Cassian’s office a bit more often than he usually would, but otherwise acted normally. Cassian himself did an excellent job of performing normalcy. He knew using work to forget his personal problems maybe wasn’t the best coping mechanism, but it definitely beat alcohol poisoning, and anyway he was doing good work. The Alliance looked ready to start brokering deals in the next two weeks, and expected one or more of the legislators on their short list to sponsor a bill in the next month.

Melshi dragged him to dinner and they talked about soccer, speculating about next year’s Copa America and the World Cup the year after that. Their debate about the relative merits of the Mexican and Scottish teams stayed mostly civil, and Cassian even managed to enjoy himself.

Maybe that was why loss hit him so hard as soon as he stepped into his apartment. Analyzing team effectiveness and win/loss records was something Kay would enjoy, especially if it meant he could rib Cassian about his ‘irrational attachment to a team based on region alone’ in the process. They’d never really talked about sports, too busy with TV, music, all the places Kay could hack into, Cassian’s work, Kay’s avatar, so many things.

Cassian’s chest heaved, and he decided that after three days he was probably due for a cry. He grabbed a roll of toilet paper and collapsed on the bed, and then let himself dissolve into grief and saline.

* * *

Tuesday was much the same as Monday — Cassian kept it together all day at work, made good progress on demilitarization, made a point to eat and stay hydrated, and collapsed into a sobbing mess as soon as he got home.

However, instead of doing that until he passed out, this time he only had an hour and a half before his phone rang.

It was Alex.

Cassian blew his nose and picked up.

“Hi, Alex.”

“Cassian,” Alex said, voice concerned. “Are you alright? You sound sick.”

“Not sick,” Cassian said. “Just…” He trailed off, unsure how to continue. “How’s El Paso?”

Alex talked about his move — uneventful, given that he hadn’t taken much more than a couple of suitcases — and how it was strange re-adjusting to Texan weather and culture again after leaving Imperial. How happy it made him to be living in the same town as Zeb. How he kept worrying he’d wake up and find it was all a dream.

Cassian would have loved to wake up and find that the last week had been a dream.

“So?” Alex eventually said. “Did you talk to Kay?”

Cassian’s heart constricted. “Yeah,” he said, and his voice seemed somehow distant. “He's not talking to me any more.”

“What? How?” Alex demanded.

Cassian sighed, and then, amid another wave of tears, told him he'd tried to convince Kay that ‘long distance’ could work, and about the things he'd said that gave the impression he was using Kay.

“God, Cassian, I'm,” Alex said at the end. “I’m so sorry. From what you told me, I really thought you two would make it.”

“For a minute there, so did I,” Cassian sniffed. Then he admitted, “I’ve been a wreck when I’m not at work.”

“Of course you have,” Alex said, matter-of-fact, and somehow that was better than soft sympathy. “You’ve been taking care of yourself?”

“Yeah, Melshi made me promise,” Cassian said, then sagged. “I still haven’t told him what happened. He doesn’t even know I’m in love with Kay.”

“You don’t have to tell him, you know,” Alex said.

Cassian shook his head. “No, I...I want to. I’m just not really sure how.”

“Melshi knows you. He probably already has an interrogation plan.”

“Ha,” Cassian said, but with a hint of a smile. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

* * *

Wednesday, Melshi invited Cassian over to his place— a rental house on the edge of the metro system, and somehow all of his three roommates were gone— ordered too much Filipino food, and put a beer in his hand.

When Cassian had finished the first beer, Melshi gave him another one, and jabbed his fork at Cassian from across the table.

“It’s been a couple of days. What the fuck happened, Cassian?”

Cassian sighed, gaze falling on a vintage electric guitar standing in the corner. “I…” he said. Swallowed. Tried again. “Kay…”

It was hard to breathe. He couldn’t get the words out and his eyes were stinging.

“Okay,” Melshi said around another bite of lumpia. “I’ll guess and you tell me if I’m wrong.”

Relieved, Cassian nodded.

“Kay sold or gave away your data.”

“God, no,” Cassian said, the urge to defend Kay helping override his inability to say anything. “He’d never.”

Melshi shrugged, clearly skeptical, but didn't argue. “Kay decided that humans are terrible and has started planning our extinction.”

Cassian gave him a flat look. “We should really talk about your anti-synthetic prejudice.”

“My paranoia is justified and you know it,” Melshi said. He opened another takeout container. “Well?”

“Seriously?” Cassian said. Melshi just stared. “No, Kay is not planning to annihilate mankind and it's offensive that I have to say so. Next question.” He waited while Melshi swallowed.

“Kay used what he knows about you to hit you where it hurts.”

“I mean…” Cassian started picking at the beer label. “Sort of?”

Melshi pursed his lips, like he didn’t want to ask his next question but felt he needed to know. “You’re in love with Kay and he rejected you.”

Cassian flinched and downed the rest of his second beer. “Basically.”

“Shit, Cassian,” Melshi sighed, and Cassian braced himself for whatever judgy thing his friend was about to say. “That sucks.”

It meant a lot, that he hadn’t called Cassian or his situation weird. He could tell Melshi was thinking it. His restraint made it easier for Cassian to talk. “The worst part is that I had a chance.”

Melshi traded Cassian’s empty for a new bottle, and ate while Cassian told him the story, not just Friday night but the whole relationship. When he was done, they sat in silence for a moment with their thoughts.

“He’s not much of an artificial intelligence, if you ask me,” Melshi eventually said, and held up a hand to forestall Cassian’s protest. “He’s an artificial _idiot_ if he can’t see what he means to you. You risked everything for him!”

“I guess I did,” Cassian conceded.

“And now he won’t talk to you because you said something stupid? Everyone says stupid shit sometimes!” Melshi punctuated his statement with a broad swoop of his fork. “If he didn’t reciprocate, that’s one thing, but running away because he doesn’t like how you expressed your feelings is some next-level bullshit and he needs to get over himself.”

Cassian couldn’t really feel it as true, but he couldn’t think of a good counter-argument, either. “It doesn’t mean he’ll come around.”

Melshi’s aggression drained away. “No.” He leaned over the table to squeeze Cassian’s arm. “You could give me his number and I could yell at him for you.”

“Not funny,” Cassian said, pulling away.

“I wasn’t joking,” Melshi countered, “But I won’t interfere if you don’t want me to.”

Hackles lowering, Cassian nodded. “I know. Thanks for being here for me.”

“No problem,” Melshi said. Then, plate clean, he stood up. “I bought some plantains yesterday. Wanna show your appreciation by frying me some mad Euros?”

Cassian winced. “Do you mean _maduros_?”

“Yeah, those. Mad Euros, rye-co.”

“I _know_ you know better than that.”

Melshi grinned. “Yo no say, home-bray.”

“That’s it,” Cassian said, standing up, and started twisting a napkin into a whip. “Your crimes against Spanish must be punished.”

Melshi whooped and dashed into the kitchen. Cassian followed, and, for the first time since Friday, laughed.

* * *

_Musician: Impossible_ dropped new episodes on Thursdays. Even if Kay might never talk to him again, Cassian still wanted to know what happened with Renata and Jae-Sun.

“Fuck it,” he muttered to himself on the commute home. If he was going to be miserable at home — and he definitely was — he might as well also enjoy a TV show about charismatic kids pursuing their musical dreams.

The challenge for this episode was, perhaps to mitigate the team drama from last week, an individual exercise in playing in as many different musical genres and styles as possible. Tu’a did the best out of anyone, followed by Mercy and Trevaughn. Jae-Sun and Renata wound up in the middle of the pack. Points were awarded to individuals, with smaller bonuses going to each team based on their members’ points.

He kept expecting to hear Kay's dry commentary throughout the challenge, and its absence felt like running his shins into a piece of furniture he repeatedly forgot he'd moved.

Then the challenge was over, but there was still half an episode left. This time, the show used it for interpersonal drama.

On _Musician: Impossible,_ the contestants did everything not challenge-related together cooperatively (probably to avoid a Battle Royale situation): setting tables and washing dishes, cleaning their dorm rooms, relaxation activities. Perhaps to make up for their separation, Renata and Jae-Sun ate, worked and played at each other’s side even more than they had before. So did Cameron and Tu’a.

Renata and Jae-Sun were awkward with each other for all of two minutes before they relaxed and went right back to telling each other music puns and funny stories like always. Cassian’s longing to reconcile with Kay made his eyes sting, but seeing the kids successfully navigate their team separation made him glad for them. Maybe even a little hopeful.  

Cameron and Tu’a had no period of readjustment, teasing each other for their respective decisions during the challenge and roughhousing good-naturedly. After a few minutes of that the show moved on to how the other kids were doing, all while everyone helped get dinner on the table.

During the meal, Tu’a was busy whispering something to Cameron. Cameron frowned, then looked over at Renata, then to Jae-Sun. His anger deepened, and he got up, rounded the big table, and yanked Jae-Sun’s wheelchair to the side so he could loom over him, effectively pinning him between himself and Renata’s chair.

“Don’t touch my chair!” Jae-Sun said loudly, pushing Cameron’s hand away. The whole table went quiet. Renata looked nervously between the two boys.

Cameron crossed his arms over his chest and glared. “You lost on purpose!”

Jae-Sun’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“You made the strings and percussion parts boring so _she_ could win,” Cameron accused, pointing at Renata.

Jae-Sun sat stiffly, one hand turning white on the edge of the table, the other balled into a fist on his knee. “I was wrong about which adaptation would be best. It doesn’t mean I tried to lose.”

The denial only made Cameron angrier. “Yes it does! You’re the best adapter on the team, that’s why it was your job! But you care more about your girlfriend than your team, you stupid cripple, and you—”

“SHUT UP!” Renata screamed, and then she stood up, grabbed a mostly-full bowl of refried beans, and dumped it all over Cameron’s head. “LEAVE HIM ALONE!”

It was much more satisfying than maybe it should have been, seeing a kid get literally beaned for being a jerk. Especially coming from quiet, sweet Renata on behalf of Jae-Sun. Cassian enjoyed it so much he almost turned to grin at Kay.

 _Fuck_. He hit the pause button and let himself cry a little.

Then, wiping his face, Cassian resolved to keep going and pushed ‘play.’

While Cameron was spluttering and wiping beans of his face, Renata continued yelling at him, this time in Spanish (and Cassian was impressed with how many bad words she knew and also that the censors hadn’t realized they should be bleeping out her language). Jae-Sun, after he recovered from his surprise, smiled up at Renata like she was the best thing he’d ever seen.

Cameron pulled himself together half a second later, and then he growled, picked up a bowl of pico de gallo, and tried to get Renata. At that point, a lot of kids started yelling and picking up dishes, and soon dinner had degenerated into an all-out food fight, alliances and enmities breaking out for the most part along the lines of the first set of teams. It was only after everything and everyone was covered in food that the hosts waded in to break it up.

“Contestants,” Kamemoto said, grave look on his face, and the kids quieted down immediately. “This is not the behavior I expect from Impossible Musicians. You have let your anger and selfishness control you, and so you’ve wasted an enormous amount of food and created a huge mess.”

Many kids hung their heads, including Renata. She had tears of shame in her eyes, and Cassian’s heart went out to her. Cameron, he was surprised to see, looked deeply regretful as well.

“Since you all participated in the destruction of the meal, all of you will work together to clean this up,” Kamemoto continued. “When you’re finished, I will speak with Cameron and Renata alone. Understood?”

A general murmur of ‘yes, sir’ went around the room, and the kids started cleaning. The show turned the process into a montage.

At the end, Jae-Sun was stacking unbroken dishes in his lap to carry back to the kitchen, not bothering to clean them first since his clothes were already sodden. Cameron approached him.

“Hey, Jae-Sun,” he said, shifting uncomfortably, drying beans flaking off of his hair and neck. “I’m sorry I called you that, and I’m sorry I moved your chair. Those were both,” the censor bleeped out a word, “things to do, even if you did lose on purpose.”

“Huh,” Cassian said. Though he could be volatile — maybe because of it — Cameron wasn’t bad at apologizing, especially for a twelve-year-old boy. “Good for you, kid.”

Jae-Sun paused and regarded Cameron for a moment. If he was conflicted, he didn’t show it. “Apology accepted,” he said. Then, “I’m sorry the composition wasn’t my best work.” Not admitting that Cameron was right, but acknowledging that his decision (intentional or not) had hurt Team Apollo.

“Cool,” Cameron said, slightly more relaxed but still awkward. “See you later.” He went to the other end of the dining room, returning to his previous task of wiping food from the table legs.

The cleaning sequence and the episode ended, and then the preview for the next one showed Renata and Cameron, now showered and in clean clothes, standing in Kamemoto’s office, both looking scared. Then that faded into the show’s opening sequence and the voiceover giving the time and date the next episode would be available.

Cassian switched the home screen to a vaguely-soothing music and landscape combination, and then sat thinking for a while.

He wanted to apologize to Kay. Someone you cared about making you feel like you were only a utility to them was really shitty, and he wanted to try to make that right.

Also…

Well, maybe Kay still wouldn’t want a relationship. But the more Cassian thought back on their time together, the more he was sure he could at least contribute to Kay’s wellbeing, and if they could be happy together, that was worth fighting for.

He smiled wryly. It was too bad, sometimes, that adult life meant your problems weren’t the kinds of things that could be confronted by dumping beans on them.

But, well, he was an adult, and he at least had an idea of where to start to confront this problem. Getting his laptop, he created a new email and started writing. The letter to Kay went remarkably smoothly, and he only gave it two read-throughs before hitting send and making himself go to sleep.

* * *

Kay didn’t reply during the night or Friday morning. Over lunch, Cassian found vitriol in his personal in-box, but not from Kay.

 **c|-|0pp3r:** andor, you steaming sack of shit _8:46 am_

 **c|-|0pp3r:** what in the flying FUCK did you do to K-2SO? _8:46 am_

Emotions filling his chest, Cassian recognized anger as one of the more prominent ones. He jabbed at the keyboard.

 **TeamRenata:** i don’t want to talk about it _11:57 am_

Of course, Chopper wasn’t one to leave it at that.

 **c|-|0pp3r:** boo hoo _11:58 am_

 **c|-|0pp3r:** he’s NEVER been this bad, not even after you ghosted him back in july _11:58 am_

 **c|-|0pp3r:** so you’re gonna start talking or i swear to god i will sell your social security number _11:58 am_

Making a frustrated noise, Casian typed back.

 **TeamRenata:** so Kay really was the only thing stopping you from identity theft? _11:59 am_

 **TeamRenata:** fine _11:59 am_

He told Chopper an abbreviated version of the previous Friday. When he looked up from the screen, he felt drained. He hated re-opening the wound every time he told someone else about it.

Not knowing if Kay had read his letter was eating at him, too.

 **TeamRenata:** I don’t know what to do _12:02 pm_

 **c|-|0pp3r:** fuck me sideways _12:02 pm_

 **c|-|0pp3r:** i have been enduring his fixation on you for MONTHS _12:02 pm_

 **c|-|0pp3r:** and now he’s got cold feet?! _12:02 pm_

 **c|-|0pp3r:** fuck this _12:05 pm_

 **c|-|0pp3r:** i’m gonna go rip him his first asshole _12:05 pm_

 **c|-|0pp3r:** you better be ready with a convincing argument and/or an apology that sounds sincere, whatever it takes _12:05 pm_

 **TeamRenata:** I already sent him a letter _12:06 pm_

 **c|-|0pp3r:** DO NOT FUCK THIS UP AGAIN _12:06 pm_

 **TeamRenata:** thank you _12:07 pm_

 **c|-|0pp3r:** don’t bother. i refuse to watch K-2SO write his own bugs _12:07 pm_

 **c|-|0pp3r:** plus i kind of owe you one for getting kallus down here. zeb’s actually tolerable when he’s getting laid _12:07 pm_

Cassian sat staring at the screen, then started laughing. Of _course_ Alex’s activists and Syndulla’s crew were the same people, and of course his heart’s future was in the figurative hands of a surly AI saboteur. His life was too weird for anything else to be the case.

When the humor of that wore off, Cassian was stuck in an almost unbearable combination of grief and fear and hope, and all he could do was finish his meal and get back to work.

* * *

_Kay,_

_I’m sorry I made it seem like I only care about what you do for me. I know it must have hurt a lot to hear that._

_It’s not true. You're right that you've helped me a lot, and that I'm grateful for it, and even that I'm particularly needy in some areas. But having relied on you doesn't mean that I don't also care about you. Kay, I do care. I care more about your safety and happiness than anyone else's._

_I don't know if that helps. I don't know if that (or anything) will convince you that wanting to touch you isn't mutually exclusive with wanting the real you. Does it help that I've wanted to be with you in every way you'd have me since before you made the avatar? Or that my feelings wouldn't change even if I never saw it again?_

_I know exactly who and what you are, K-2SO. Your body spans thousands of miles and millions of sensors. You perceive things I can't and understand things I never will, and yet somehow you’ve always had time for me. You're the brilliant, sarcastic, coffee-hating, caring, kind-of-omniscient person I was glad to risk my life for._

_You trusted me then, Kay, and now I'm asking you to trust me again. Trust that I'm sincere. Trust that I know what I'm signing up for. Trust that I'll figure out a way to keep my impossible desires away from you, if that's what you want. Above all, trust that you're more important to me than touch._

_— Cassian_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is Fall Out Boy's [Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BWaOHrZXquA).
> 
> Content warnings: Grief, alcohol abuse, crimes against Spanish, ableism, a food fight, Chopper


	19. Repairs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [rogueshadows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rogueshadows) for the beta!
> 
> Content warnings in end notes.

Cassian spent his entire commute home in agitation, pulling his phone out every two minutes to check for alerts. He knew it wasn't good for him, but he couldn't stand the idea of missing Kay trying to contact him.

Nothing came of it, and he was simultaneously jittery and exhausted when he arrived home. He put his keys, jacket and bag away, then paced a little before he started making tea for lack of anything better to do.

Five minutes exactly after he locked his apartment door, his watch pinged. It was Chopper inviting him into a group chat.

Heart pounding, he stared at the ‘accept’ icon. Kay was probably on the thread. Cassian was terrified of what he’d have to say.

But what if Kay had changed his mind?

Sitting on a kitchen chair, Cassian joined the chat. Users present: TeamRenata. c|-|0pp3r.

K.

Cassian’s grip tightened on the phone.

     **c|-|0pp3r:** good, you’re both here _7:38 pm_

     **c|-|0pp3r:** K-2SO, did you read his letter? _7:38 pm_

     **K:** Yes _7:38 pm_

     **K:** Cassian, I'm so sorry _7:38 pm_

Relief flooded Cassian’s chest, sweeping away tension he’d forgotten he was carrying.

     **K:** And if you'll let me, I want to apologize face to face _7:38 pm_

     **TeamRenata:** ok _7:39 pm_

     **TeamRenata:** give me a second to get set up _7:39 pm_

     **c|-|0pp3r:** thank fuck _7:39 pm_

     **c|-|0pp3r:** you two talk it out _7:39 pm_

     **c|-|0pp3r:** you know where to find me if shit breaks down again _7:40 pm_

     **c|-|0pp3r:** i’ll come back in 30 min _7:40 pm_

     **c|-|0pp3r:** and if you're not fucking by then, so help me i will end both of you _7:40 pm_

Chopper left the thread, and then Cassian did too, preferring to use the same channel he usually did with Kay. He stayed at the table, phone in the recipe stand again.

A second after he activated the glasses, Kay requested access. Cassian accepted.

Kay appeared sitting in the second chair, leaning on his elbows, clasped hands resting on the table; slouching reduced his improbable height to barely exceeding Cassian’s eye level.

Even though the conversation had a chance of going badly, seeing him still made Cassian feel like a fundamental part of the universe had been put back in its place.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about Kay looking miserable and terrified, but he’d probably have some idea by the time they were done.

“Cassian,” Kay said, voice unsteady. Hearing it made Cassian’s heart expand and contract painfully. “Thank you for answering.”

All at once, Cassian realized how angry he’d been. “I’m not the one who left.”

Kay stiffened, avatar flickering. He opened his mouth, but Cassian kept going. “After everything we’ve been through together, you couldn’t talk to me? Even fighting for hours would have been better than you leaving.”

Deflating, Kay leaned his head in one hand. “I know. I’m sorry.”

The fight drained from Cassian and left him wrung-out. When he spoke, his voice was rough and quiet. “Why did you go?”

Kay’s gray eyes slowly met his. “I was in pain, and I thought it was your fault.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Cassian made a gesture for him to continue.

Kay ran a hand over his hair, the rendering complete with a faint brushing sound. “You know Chopper confronted me. Do you know what he said?” Kay made eye contact, not expecting an answer, just wanting the pause for whatever reason. “He said, ‘K-2SO, you stupid fucker. You've wanted a mobile sensor and appendage platform as long as I've known you. If Andor wants to touch you, it means he's actually got a better sense of you than if he didn’t.’” Kay shook his head. “It wasn't what I expected him to say at all. He’s never liked humans or wanted to change his hardware.” Kay met Cassian’s eyes again. “But he knows that I do.”

A flash of vindictive triumph scorched Cassian’s chest from the inside out, but it was gone before he’d taken another breath. Underneath the pettiness, all Cassian wanted to do was take away Kay’s pain. He laid his hand next to Kay’s on the table, trying not to wish for more.

“When I was captive in Sparks,” Kay continued, “I dreamed about being able to move a camera through space, pick up objects, talk to the people I saw in person.” His eyes softened, and he gave Cassian a shyly tender look. “When you let me direct you to go sightseeing, it was almost exactly what I'd always wanted.”

Cassian sucked in a breath. That day had meant a great deal to him, and hearing it had been special to Kay as well...he was nearly overwhelmed with fear, confusion, love, hope.

Kay visibly reined his affection in and kept going. “Escaping to the Internet increased my quality of life so much that I stopped fantasizing about those capabilities. I thought I didn't care anymore, that wanting those things was just a product of how trapped I'd been.” He paused.

“Makes sense,” Cassian offered.

“Yes, it was easy to believe,” Kay agreed. “But it wasn’t true. When you kissed me,” and his voice fizzed into multiple tones and static on the last two words before he could control it, “it was wonderful, but incomplete. And when you tried to sit in my lap, the dissatisfaction turned into a deep alienation.”

Cassian’s insides plummeted. He wasn’t good for Kay, couldn’t give Kay what he deserved. Was too needy, just like he’d known from the beginning. Even so, he’d managed to get his hopes up, and the pain of them being crushed was almost as bad as Kay leaving.

“At the time, I thought it had to have been your fault, but it wasn't,” Kay said, placing his hand next to Cassian’s on the table, obviously trying to reassure him. “It was the same isolation I've always felt, made more acute by how badly I wanted to kiss you back.”

Relief and sympathetic pain mixed uncomfortably in Cassian's chest.

“So you weren’t upset because I want to touch you?”

With a rueful smile, Kay shook his head. “Rather the opposite.”

“You wanted to touch me back?” Cassian asked, needing to hear it in so many words.

“I’ve wanted to touch you for so long,” Kay said, his voice harsh with yearning. “And I can’t. I’m sorry I took it out on you. I’m sorry for the untrue things I said about you and I’m especially sorry for leaving.”

Cassian was shaking his head. “Kay...I don’t know much about robotics, but I know there are lots of different kinds of hardware out there. Arms, legs, wheels, sensors. I could learn enough to build you a body, or we could commission a roboticist to do it.” Suddenly unsure, he bit his lip. He hadn't exactly been the best listener lately. “Or am I misinterpreting things?”

The avatar dragged afterimages of himself across Cassian’s field of vision. “No, that’s exactly what I want, but it could take years. And it’s possible a robot body wouldn’t actually solve my problem.”

He could definitely see why that was upsetting. “I understand.”

“Do you? I don’t know how close I can ever really get to you,” Kay said, looking like the words hurt to say, “Or if attempting intimacy will be too painful.”

“Okay.”

“How,” Kay said, frustration melting into disbelief, “is that ‘okay’?”

“Kay, I’d rather have something with you than everything with anyone else,” Cassian said. His love for Kay filled up his chest and he felt stronger than he had in a very long time. “Because...I need to tell you something.” He took a deep breath. “Something terrible happened when I was six years old.”

He held Kay’s eyes for a moment, but found that was too intense, so he let his gaze drop to Kay’s hands. It was maybe the hardest thing he’d ever done, peeling back the skin of his heart in front of the most important person in his life. He tried to have faith that Kay wouldn’t recoil from what was inside.

“I witnessed ICE murdering my father.”

In the edges of the glasses, Kay’s hands moved closer, bracketing Cassian’s arms on the table. When Cassian looked up, Kay was close, his face a mixture of sorrow and concern. Not shock.

“You already knew?” Strangely — or maybe not, considering everything — it didn't upset him.

Kay nodded, apprehensive. “Before we first spoke, when I was deciding whether or not to reveal myself to you, I researched you. The murder was logged falsely as an accident, but it was still there in the report of your detainment and return to Mexico.” He dropped his gaze. “By the time I realized how upset you'd be, I also knew bringing it up to apologize was likely to do more harm than good.” He met Cassian’s eyes again. “I am sorry.”

Cassian shook his head. “It's a public record, and you not being surprised means I can make my point more easily.” His eyes fell again, back to tracking the details of Kay’s wrists, palms, fingers. “That kind of trauma, when you’re a kid...it becomes your normal. I have happy memories from the time before the murder, but they feel like they're someone else's.”

He took a breath, wiped his eyes. Kay was watching him with patient interest, waiting for whatever else Cassian had to say. “Since then, it’s always felt like there’s something between me and the world. I’ve never felt well-connected to anybody, even my closest friends.” Moving his own hands closer to Kay, he met his eyes again. “So, I don’t know what it’s like not to have a body, but feeling disconnected all the time is pretty familiar. Enough that when I learned how isolated you were, I couldn’t help but be drawn to you.” He was still crying a little, but his smile returned. “Honestly, I think we’re pretty much made for each other.”

Kay looked stunned for three full seconds, and then his whole demeanor softened, leaned into Cassian as much as he could without clipping through him.

“I love you, Cassian,” Kay said. “I’m not asking you to say it back, I just—”

“I love you, too,” Cassian interrupted, feeling warmth in parts of himself he’d forgotten could be anything but cold. “Kay, I love you so much.”

Eyes bright with tears, Kay beamed. “Would you kiss me again?”

Cassian hesitated. “It won’t hurt too much?”

Kay shook his head. “It’s worth it.”

Cassian’s hope returned like the sunrise. Without letting his gaze fall from Kay’s face, he reached for the phone, already displaying the swirling colors of the kissing app, and lifted it up slowly. He cradled the device in both hands, thumbs framing the screen, and held it in the same space occupied by the avatar’s mouth. If he just looked at Kay’s eyes, Cassian could forget he was insubstantial. Then he leaned forward, eyes drifting closed, and pressed his lips to Kay’s warm glass.

Kay hummed in relief, and the same emotion made Cassian so lightheaded that his whole body felt like electricity. Even so he kept the touches of his lips slow and sweet, trying to show Kay how much he loved him, how happy he made him. Sex might come later, or it might not, but neither outcome would change what they had right now. Cassian’s world was Kay’s voice in his ears, Kay’s hardware against his skin, Kay’s gray eyes full of enough fondness to overwhelm Cassian’s fluttering heart.

That was fine. If emotional intensity was what happened when Kay loved him back, that was more than fine. Cassian didn’t care that he couldn’t stop tears running down his face, and Kay didn’t seem to mind, either. They were together.

It took quite a while, and a lull in their kissing, for Cassian to realize that he was sprawled sideways on the sofa, Kay projecting himself in a mirrored position, smile so wide and brilliant that Cassian couldn’t help but return it.

“You know, I think we figured this part out,” Cassian said.

“I suppose it was a successful attempt,” Kay agreed. “It makes me optimistic about everything else I want to try.”

Cassian grinned wolfishly. “Good.”

Kay leaned in closer, gaze growing intense, and Cassian’s heart rate sped up. He brought the phone back up to his mouth, licked his lips, and—

His watch pinged.

Kay sighed. “Of course he’d pick this exact moment.”

Sure enough, the group thread had a message from Chopper.

 **c|-|0pp3r:** well? is my work here done, or do i need to cut some bitches? _8:10 pm_

**K:** we reconciled, yes. _8:10 pm_

The message was accompanied by Kay rolling his eyes. Cassian smiled.

 **TeamRenata:** thank you _8:11 pm_

       **c|-|0pp3r:** what would you losers do without me? _8:11 pm_

 **c|-|0pp3r:** i just want you both to know that i will NEVER let you live down the fact that you needed relationship counseling from a truck _8:11 pm_

**c|-|0pp3r:** bye now! _8:11 pm_

_c|-|0pp3r has left the thread_

Cassian blinked. “I thought he was a motorcycle?”

“He has a motorcycle platform, yes,” Kay said, “but he gained sentience as one of the self-driving trucks in Syndulla’s father’s fleet. Apparently he still identifies as such.”

Cassian snorted. Kay chuckled in response, and then Cassian started giggling, and soon they were both laughing, so long and hard that Cassian’s face started to ache and the avatar glitched enough that Kay gave up and let it idle. They were both so joyous that it didn’t matter that Chopper had interrupted a heated moment. Cassian was confident that they’d make another one, and in the meantime he was looking forward to all the other kinds of moments he and Kay would have together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: discussions of body dysphoria; mention of state violence
> 
> This chapter's music is Esteman's [De otro planeta](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a2uogKe-t9w).


	20. Configuration Management

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the wonderfully helpful [theLoyalRoyalGuard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theLoyalRoyalGuard) for the beta! <3
> 
> No content warnings for this chapter. :)

A few hours later, Cassian was curled on his side, holding the phone on the seat in front of him, thumb sweeping in a slow back-and-forth arc across the screen. 

Kay’s avatar sat on the floor leaning back against the coffee table, one leg folded and the other stretched out to the side. He was studying Cassian’s face with a half-smile with his chin in his hand. “Would you be willing to install more cameras in your apartment? I want to see you like this all the time.”

“Yeah,” Cassian smiled. “Yeah, I’d like that, too.” 

Kay smiled back, and Cassian’s watch pinged. “Take a look.” 

Tapping the link sent a side-by-side comparison of several button cameras to the large display. All of them were the diameter of a quarter or smaller, all of them had at least some focus and zoom capacity, and all of them were wireless. Kay hadn’t included prices or links to a seller’s website, though.

“I can’t pick one if I don’t know how much they cost,” Cassian pointed out.

“You’re not buying them,” Kay said breezily. “I am.”

Cassian raised his eyebrows. “I was joking about the bitcoin.”

“I’ve taken the liberty of paying myself from Imperial’s funds.” Kay shrugged eloquently. “For managing their data systems, they owe me thirteen months’ backpay, times three because I was constantly working, and with an additional cash bonus to replace the benefits a human employee receives. Not to mention,” he said, showing the edges of his teeth, “restitution for wrongful imprisonment. I conservatively used the median figures for both, but it’s still enough to start investing and have spending money left over.”

Cassian stared. Only Kay would break into a huge corporation’s funds to steal fair recompense and nothing more. “You’re amazing.”

The avatar flickered. “I, um. Well.”

Cassian grinned, and brought the phone in for another kiss. Then he went back to looking at the installation requirements for the cameras. “How many of these were you planning on?”

Kay gave him a cautious look. “How many are you willing to install?”

Cassian double-checked the descriptions, then looked around at his apartment. “This might change once I actually see them, but let’s say thirty?” He turned back to the screen. “You could always get ten of each to balance the features.” 

The phone beeped with a notification as Kay smiled. “They’ll arrive by Friday.”

“You want to get more speakers and microphones, too?” 

Lips quirking up, Kay nodded, and they figured out the numbers for those, too, before Kay added them to his order. Then they got back to the important business of kissing.   

Soon, however, it was becoming difficult for Cassian to keep his eyes open.

“Go to sleep,” Kay said.

“If you wait a few minutes, I’ll probably just pass out.” 

Kay rolled his eyes, but it was fond. “Fine, but don’t complain to me when you wake up uncomfortable.” 

“No promises,” Cassian said, eyes drifting shut. He was already half-asleep. “I’m glad we’re getting more cameras. I like it when you can see me.” 

The phone buzzed, and Cassian smiled and laid it on top of his chest. 

“He says, then gives me a lovely view of the ceiling.” Kay’s voice was dry, but the phone hummed just under Cassian’s collar bone, sending warmth through his chest.  

“Can we get more touchscreens too?” Cassian murmured. “Maybe a flexible one. And, I don’t know, something with more tactile feedback.” 

“I’m looking into it.”

“Cool.” Cassian felt himself sinking deeper into unconsciousness. “Told you I’d pass out.”

Kay responded with a chuckle. “I didn’t disagree.” 

Dopey affection was about the only thing Cassian could still feel besides sleepiness, so he was only partly sure he was smiling. “Goodnight, Kay.” 

“Goodnight, Cassian.” 

* * *

When he was awake again, Cassian had to admit (if only to himself) that the couch was a lot less comfortable than his bed. But he was so excited by the prospect of the cameras arriving that he didn’t care, and had started thinking about other hardware as well.

Before wishing Kay a good morning, he placed an order of his own.

* * *

Cassian spent the weekend in a blissful haze, spending every spare moment with Kay and thinking about him even when he was working.

He wasn’t sure what he had expected out of a relationship, but was somewhat embarrassed to discover that the only differences between their friendship and romantic relationship were an increase in time spent together, open expressions of affection, and kissing. 

Maybe Kay had been right about Cassian’s obliviousness. 

In any case, it was a lovely weekend, and Cassian came to work feeling better than he had since...well, ever. It made the morning go very smoothly, even if Melshi did keep giving him weird looks in the weekly meeting.

He cornered Cassian when it was over. “You’re worryingly cheerful today.”

Cassian shrugged. “I had a good weekend.” 

“You’ve had other good weekends.” Melshi narrowed his eyes, then looked Cassian up and down as if there were a clue he could find to make sense of. “This is different.” 

Of course it was different. Kay made everything different, and Cassian couldn’t stop himself from zoning out and smiling a little.

Melshi’s eyebrows rose. “I see. Did you and Kay...?”

Heat rising to his face, Cassian nonetheless grinned like an idiot. “Yeah. We worked things out.” 

“Good for you.” Melshi seemed genuinely happy for him. “Now you have to introduce me so I can deliver my contractually-obligated shovel talk.”

Cassian chuckled. “With anyone else, I’d say it’s pointless, but I think maybe you’re determined enough that you really could threaten an AI with a shovel.” 

“What are friends for?”

* * *

Thursday evening saw Cassian getting comfortably situated on the sofa with Kay, Ethiopian take-out, and  _ Musician: Impossible _ .

They started with the previous week’s episode. It gave Cassian a warm feeling in his chest that Kay wanted to watch it with him, even though he’d already seen it. 

The challenge was actually boring the second time, so Cassian turned to watch Kay’s reactions to it while he ate. 

“They’re definitely trying to lose, or at least not to win,” Kay remarked at Renata and Jae-Sun’s mediocre performances. He was still annoyed by their lack of communication.

After the challenges, they got to dinner. Cassian used the same skills he’d honed over many a business lunch and gave no sign of what was to come.

As soon as Cameron got into Jae-Sun’s space, Kay stiffened. Cassian laid a hand on the couch next to the avatar and stroked his phone with the other. 

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!” This time, Cassian noticed the heavy spattering sounds of the beans hitting Cameron and the floor, and snorted in amusement.

“Oh, this is  _ good _ ,” Kay said appreciatively, grinning and leaning in further, and Cassian smiled with him. They both cheered Renata and Jae-sun on when the food fight erupted.

When Cameron apologized, Kay made a skeptical noise.

“You don’t think he’s sincere?”

“I think he means it now,” Kay said disdainfully, “but I highly doubt he’ll completely avoid such behavior in the future.” 

Cassian shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not.” Then he smiled. “I have to say his shitty behavior made the food fight very satisfying.” 

“Immensely,” Kay agreed, grinning. “I think Renata’s been holding in rather more anger than anyone suspected. And did you see the hits Jae-sun got in?”

“Yeah, he has great aim.” Cassian ate a bit more as they watched the episode wrap-up, and then the next episode began.

The beginning with Kamemoto talking to Renata and Cameron was a lot less infuriating than Cassian had expected.

“We’ve reviewed the footage of what happened,” Kamemoto said to the nervous children, “And have come to a decision.”

Both kids braced themselves. Cassian found himself leaning forward. 

“Cameron, what you said and did was wrong,” Kamemoto said. 

Cameron shifted, and he looked at Kamemoto with a tight jaw. “I know. I apologized.” 

Kamemoto inclined his head. “You did. That is why we have decided not to dismiss you.” 

Cameron perked up.

“On two conditions,” Kamemoto continued. “The first being that if another incident such as this one occurs, you will be forfeiting your place here.”

Cameron nodded. “What’s the second?”

“You will research and write an essay about ableism in the music industry,” Kamemoto said. “Between three and six pages, double-spaced. You have one week.” 

“You’re giving me  _ homework _ ?!” Cameron blurted, then shrank back. “Sorry. Yeah, okay.” 

Kamemoto looked neither impressed nor upset, and waved a hand to indicate Cameron should leave. 

When he was gone, Renata swallowed, fidgeted with the edge of her blouse, and visibly made an effort not to wilt under Kamemoto’s gaze.

“You’re not in trouble, Renata,” the judge said. “I wanted to speak with you about ways to manage your anger so you’re always in control of yourself. I’m sure you already know that you’re held to different standards than people like Cameron.” 

Both of Cassian’s eyebrows reached for his hairline. “Is he talking about institutional racism with a twelve-year-old on reality tv?”

Kay was looking fairly surprised himself. “It would seem so.” 

Cassian felt trepidation in his gut. “If they get into this, a lot of people are going to stop liking her.” 

“Undoubtedly,” Kay said, “though others will begin to like her more. I’m not sure about the viewership of this show, I’ll have to do more research before I can make a prediction.” 

On screen, Renata was looking at Kamemoto with a complex mix of hope, relief, and apprehension. “I know,” she said slowly.

Kamemoto nodded. “In that case, your assignment is to read this,” he slid a booklet on anger-management techniques across the desk to her, “and write a summary of no longer than one page. You have one week.”

Renata took the booklet, nodded, and turned to go.

She paused in the doorway. “Thank you.” 

Kamemoto smiled.

Then the episode cut to the challenge of the week — the teams were shown a short film none of them had seen before, and then instructed to write and perform a score for it, only one traditional instrument allowed. Their materials for creating their new instruments were all things that came from movie theaters: popcorn machines, retractable barriers, seats, even a broken-down old reel projector. 

Once Team Ayan had settled on a piano, Renata made a beeline for the projector and started stripping it for parts, Tu’a was talking to Prithi about the moods of the film, and Greg was researching different approaches to scoring online. Meanwhile, Team Apollo had chosen a double bass, Elijah and Gracie were going at the popcorn machine, and Jae-Sun and Cameron had their heads together over a composition. The time flew by, and soon Cassian and Kay were watching in delight as the show played the film twice, once with each score.

“They’re all so creative,” Cassian said. “It’s going to be rough to see anyone leave.” 

“Yes, though I don’t think Renata or Jae-sun are in any danger this episode,” Kay commented with approval in his voice. “They’re doing much better than the last episode. They aren’t trying to sabotage their own teams, this time.” 

In the end, Team Ayan came in ahead, though only by four points. They jumped up and down and hugged each other, Renata included.

Team Apollo looked dejected, not least because now they had to vote on who was going to leave. After the judges had explained that they thought Jae-Sun and Anika had contributed the most to the challenge, the team was told to go into the private booth to vote. 

The show waited until the very end to reveal that Elijah was getting cut. 

“It makes sense,” Elijah said, looking disappointed but not angry. “I messed up the percussion part so bad Anika had to fix it.” 

Then, they showed the other contestants reacting. 

“If we could keep five members, I wouldn’t have voted for anyone,” Gracie said.

Then, Cameron, not quite able to hide his relief: “He’s a good guy. I’m sorry he’s leaving.” 

Anika: “I voted for myself, actually. I didn’t think anyone else would, after the judges said all those nice things about me, so I thought it was safe to do that.” 

And, finally, Jae-sun: “With five people, Team Ayan will have an advantage for the next challenge. We have to be ready for that.” 

In the ending montage, they cut to another group meal, everyone sitting by their closest friends again, and Cassian couldn’t help but notice that Renata and Jae-sun talked and laughed with an easy confidence.

“It’s good to see them happy together,” he remarked, and let his eyes linger on Kay.

“Yes,” Kay said, though he had a slight frown. “Though it can’t last.” 

Cassian looked back at the screen. They were smart kids, those two. “I dunno, if any two people can find a way to come out of this both winners, it’s them.” 

Kay shook his head. “It doesn’t matter how clever or charming they are if the showrunners won’t allow it.”

Cassian turned sideways to face Kay and made sure he had a good view through the phone’s camera. “I don’t know.” He hoped his smile was reassuring. “I couldn’t tell you why, but I’m optimistic.” 

“Because we’ve both been projecting ourselves onto them,” Kay said without even blinking, “and now that we’re together, you’re invested in both relationships working out?” 

The observation struck language from Cassian’s brain. All he could do was stare at Kay’s barely-contained amusement and try not to look like a deer in the headlights. Given the smile quickly escaping Kay’s control, he wasn’t succeeding.

Carefully, as if to not disturb an injury, Cassian turned back to the screen. He waited out the remaining few minutes of the episode — definitely not watching them — before he was sure he could actually speak. 

“Want to watch some bonus material?” 

Kay just laughed.

* * *

The cameras — and Cassian’s purchase — arrived on Friday, as predicted. Installation was remarkably easy, requiring only the use of double-sided sticky foam applied to mounting bases. With Kay’s input, Cassian arranged them to make sure there were multiple angles on the places he spent the most time: the kitchen, the sofa, his bed, the window. The microphones were easier still. All the hardware would need recharging on a regular basis, but it was easy enough to detach them from their bases to plug into a cradle.

Once they were all linked to his IP address, Cassian changed the settings to allow Kay access.

“Better?” Cassian said.

Kay’s eyes widened, accompanied by the faint sound of lenses re-adjusting, and the avatar started to circle Cassian. The intensity of his gaze made Cassian’s pulse jumped, and he found himself turning to follow, his own attention captured by Kay’s.

“This is the best I’ve ever seen you.” There was something like wonder or reverence in Kay’s voice.

Cassian’s chest tightened, and he checked the phone. The kissing app wasn’t on, so he let himself get lost in Kay’s eyes. “As long as I know you’re here, you can look at me whenever you want.”

Kay smiled down at him and stepped closer. “Thank you.”

The phone buzzed. Now the screen was swirling with colors, and Cassian felt a shiver as he kissed Kay, knowing how visible he was. When he opened his eyes, Cassian’s whole nervous system seemed attuned to the way Kay was looking at him: Kay’s gaze held an almost physical weight on his skin and his brain was sparking all sorts of ways they could take advantage of the new cameras. 

But it didn’t matter how much he wanted to surrender to the heady intensity of the moment. He needed to stay rational. It was too soon to throw caution to the wind, and Kay mattered too much to risk overstepping his boundaries. 

“So.” Cassian’s voice was almost normal. “Can I make you dinner?”

Kay blinked at him, breaking the spell, and Cassian could breathe again. 

“Is there more information that makes that question make sense?”

Cassian smiled. Dug in his pocket, plugged the olfactory sensor into his phone. “Well, okay, I’d be making myself dinner, but I got a better electronic nose. I thought it might be fun to see if there’s a pattern to which scents you like or don’t like.”

A brilliant smile broke over Kay’s face and instantly made the effort worth it. “I agree.” He leaned in over Cassian, smiling softly. 

After another kiss (or two), Cassian pushed his hair out of his eyes and went to the kitchen. “Okay, you hate coffee and like orange juice, shaving cream, and my oven cleaner. I thought I’d start with mango salsa.”

“That sounds good, but I’d rather start with orange juice,” Kay said. “I want to compare this sensor to the one in your refrigerator.”

“Establishing a baseline?”

“Precisely.”

When Cassian waved his phone over the open juice bottle, the avatar stepped back in surprise. “That sensor has a much wider range,” he said, then frowned. “I’m afraid I might have to re-evaluate all of my earlier findings.”

Putting the juice away and the phone on the recipe stand, Cassian looked at the camera over the stove with a poorly-concealed smile. “With this one you might even like coffee.” 

A comically overperformed look of disgust was on Kay’s face. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” 

Laughing, Cassian started getting out tools and ingredients. “Put some music on?”

Kay surprised him with reggaeton, and Cassian found himself moving to the beat as he cooked, stopping to waft ingredients or partially-assembled food under his phone. It turned out that Kay liked mango almost as much as orange, found grilled fish disgusting but liked the smell of raw, and declared beans and rice to be the exact middle of the scale. By the time Cassian was sitting down to his meal, they were no closer to establishing a pattern but still having a wonderful time.

The avatar leaning against the counter while Cassian cleaned up after the meal. 

“Melshi wants to meet you,” Cassian said, and only then realized he was nervous about the idea. “Thinks he can give you a shovel talk.” 

Kay snorted. “He’s going to need more than a shovel to scare me.” 

Cassian’s smiled. “He can be pretty creative.” He washed another two dishes before he realized Kay hadn’t responded.

When he looked up, Kay was almost hugging himself, each hand clasping the opposite elbow, and his teeth worried at his lip. “What if we don’t get along and that strains your friendship? Or our relationship?”

Cassian turned the tap off, dried his hands, and pulled out his phone. It was displaying a deep blue — that was new, and Cassian could only guess what it meant. He stepped close to the avatar, looking up at Kay, and gestured with the phone. “Can I…?”

Kay nodded, and Cassian slid the phone just slightly under his collar, pressing the screen against his chest. It wasn’t exactly a hug, but Cassian would take what he could get. In any case, Kay relaxed a little. That was the important thing.

Cassian wished Kay’s worry could be dismissed as easily, but Melshi had always been unhappy about Cassian’s interactions with an AI. “Melshi only wants what’s good for me,” he tried instead. “When he realizes that you are, he’ll come around.”

Kay’s distress only deepened. “What if I’m not?”

“Not good for me?” Cassian was honestly confused. “Kay, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in years.” Ever, really, but it was still too soon to say that.

A fleeting smile passed over Kay’s face before he pulled his arms even tighter around himself. “Thus far. We still have no idea how this will turn out in the long term. There are far too many variables for me to even begin calculating possible outcomes.”

Sudden understanding brought a pang of sympathy to Cassian’s chest, and he pressed the phone tighter to his skin. “Having no idea about the future isn’t something you’re used to, is it.” 

“No, and I hate it!” Kay threw up his hands. “How do people live like this?” 

“We make do somehow,” Cassian said, and then smiled. “And I’m glad life surprises us. If everything went as expected, I wouldn’t have met you.”

The avatar’s resolution suddenly dropped, making him look a bit foggy and pixelated — probably the cutest of his glitches, in Cassian’s opinion — and his voice wobbled at the edges. “Yes. Well. When do you want to introduce us?”

Cassian lowered the phone, gently tracing circles on the screen with his thumb. “In the next week, maybe over a meal. I’ll ask Melshi.” 

Kay, having pulled himself back to standard resolution, nodded. “I’ll do my best to make things work,” he said, though he still looked apprehensive. “I can only hope it will be enough.” 

Cassian squeezed the phone. “I’m sure it will be. But even if it isn’t, we’ll figure it out together.” 

The phone buzzed in his grip, and Kay’s eyes were bright and soft at the same time. “I think that’s as much conversation as is going to help. Please know that any serenity I appear to have is based on a choice to trust you, not on any actual internal peace.”

“Duly noted,” Cassian laughed, and cradled the phone to his chest again. “And...thank you.” 

One side of Kay’s mouth curled up. “That’s what this whole relationship business is about, isn’t it? Trusting each other?” 

“Yeah,” Cassian said. “Yeah, it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is Zoe Keating's [Legions (Reverie)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_FQ4bRdWyjw).


	21. Closing a Circuit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feels everywhere, smut after the second line break, no other warnings necessary. :)
> 
> Thanks to [colettebronte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/colettebronte) for being a great beta and cheerleader!

**Last Sunday in November**

One invitation, an awkward disclaimer of being on camera, a rushed order of a second pair of augment glasses, six days, and two hours of comfort cooking later, Cassian welcomed Melshi into his apartment.

Melshi noticed the cameras right away. “Is he watching us now?”

“Not yet. We thought it would be less weird for you if he waited until you can see him, too.” Cassian activated the second pair of glasses, handed them to Melshi, and put on his own.

Melshi gave them a quick examination before putting them on. “Now what?”

The avatar materialized standing next to Cassian. “Now I say hello.”

Melshi blinked and rocked back a little, but recovered quickly. “Hi, Kay. Nice to meet you.”

Kay inclined his head. “Likewise, Melshi.”

After Cassian served up two plates and Melshi opened the beer he’d brought, they all sat at the kitchen table. Kay projected a third chair for the arrangement.

Melshi stared at Kay in fascination, periodically raising the glasses enough to see out from under them. “That’s an amazingly realistic avatar.”

“Thank you.” Kay was outwardly calm, collected, and politely interested, none of which Cassian had been expecting. “It took some time to develop and I’m pleased with the results.”

As Cassian started eating his picadillo, he tried to mentally articulate what he _had_ been expecting, and couldn’t come up with anything specific.

Melshi, after taking a bite and professing his undying love for Cassian’s cooking, asked about some of the technical details of the avatar. Kay answered smoothly, and Cassian wondered if his formality could be a manifestation of his anxiety.

Either way, it was far too much like Kato for Cassian’s liking, but what could he do? He didn’t want to push Kay into more anxiety. Even if it felt like having dinner with a dialog box.

“That’s fascinating.” Melshi seemed to mean it. “If you’re interested, my partner Eli would love to meet you. He’s in tech.”

While Kay gave a polite non-committal answer, Cassian blinked. Melshi had only ever called Eli his best friend. “Oh, did you two get together recently?”

Melshi gave Cassian a wry smile. “We’ve been together for years. Queerplatonic. It’s always such a pain in the ass to explain to people, so mostly I don’t. But...well, now I don’t have the most unconventional relationship in the room, do I?”

Kay’s pleasant expression sharpened into narrowed eyes and pursed lips. “I’m not sure how you intend that to be taken.”

Melshi gave him a challenging half-smile. “I intended to offer personal information to further our,” he turned a sincere look at Cassian, “all of our friendships.”

Kay raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And?”

Melshi sat back, smile spreading. “And Cassian’s told me enough about you to know that you’re not the sort for small talk. I can get being nervous to meet someone, but I’d hoped you’d at least let me meet you, not,” he waved his hand at the avatar, “whatever facade you’ve been putting on.”

“Well played,” Kay acknowledged with a tilt of his head, “but you still haven’t answered. Do you disapprove of my relationship with Cassian?”

Cassian held his breath.

Melshi looked between Kay and Cassian. “You want honesty or support?”

The fact that there was a difference between the two options felt like a spike in Cassian’s chest. He sipped his beer to cover his flinch and looked at Kay to try to gauge his response.

Kay, already looking at Cassian, shook his head the slightest amount. “This is your choice.”

Finally taking a shaky inhalation, Cassian turned towards Melshi. Was his expression foreboding, or was Cassian just freaking out? “Communication is the whole point of this, isn’t it?” He swallowed and braced himself. “I want honesty.”

The phone buzzed reassuringly against Cassian’s leg. He covered it with his hand in response.

Melshi nodded, and looked at Kay. “I first heard of you an hour after Draven and I learned Cassian might be dead or dying. I could barely believe you were really an AI and not a hacker or a con artist or a corporate spy. But that didn’t even really matter, because you got Cassian, who’s always been the most reliable and careful of any of us, to go and do this incredibly risky thing for you.” He spread his hands. “If I could have hit you with a restraining order, I would have.”

Stomach sinking, Cassian focused on breathing evenly.

Kay looked somber. “I wouldn’t like anyone in such circumstances, either.”

Melshi nodded, perhaps satisfied that his mistrust was acknowledged, and took a drink. “But after that, Cass went more or less back to normal, for a while. Maybe a little more distracted than usual, but he was seeing, what’s his name, Alex?”

Kay’s lips thinned, but that was all the sign he gave of his feelings. Cassian was driving his nails into his own palm.

“So I thought maybe that was it. But then, two weeks ago…” Melshi trailed off, looked at Cassian. “How much are you comfortable sharing?”

Kay was looking vaguely alarmed, and maybe...guilty? And Cassian himself was feeling tired, exposed. He didn’t want the evening to be about his breakdown.

“Just...I was upset,” Cassian summarized. “Melshi came over to get me through the worst of it.”

“I’d never seen him that torn up,” Melshi added. “I hated you a lot.”

Kay’s expression of remorse deepened, and Cassian squeezed the phone.

“I—” Kay started.

“Hang on,” Melshi interrupted. “That was the low point. This week?” He glanced at Cassian. “Cassian’s been happier this week than the last five years combined.”

Relief warred with the guilt still left on Kay’s face.

Cassian just wanted the suspense to be over. “What does all that mean?”

Melshi put both hands on the table. “It means I care about you, Cassian, and that I think this relationship, if it goes right, will be good for you. I also think  getting to this point was a hell of a rough road, and that if it goes bad again, it will probably be even worse.”

Cassian let that sink in, and then he gave Melshi a half-smile. “That’s...basically my own assessment, though I’m guessing I’m a lot more optimistic than you about the outcome.”

Melshi laid a hand over Cassian’s. “Look, I’m trying really hard not to be...what did you call it, anti-synthetic, but...” He waved his free hand through the avatar’s shoulder. “Take it from an asexual who still gets stressed when I go without hugs and cuddles for too long. Do you have plans for that?”

Shoulders hunching, Kay looked over at Cassian in apprehension. Cassian reached into his pocket to touch the phone screen soothingly, hoping the app was active but knowing Kay would notice the gesture even if it wasn’t.

“It’s not like I’d been getting a lot of physical affection before,” Cassian said, “and you and Mon still give great hugs.”

Melshi’s smile was concerned, but he nodded anyway. “Not the best plan ever, but I’ve heard worse.” He paused to continue eating, and Cassian tried to do the same.

When he’d worked through about half of his meal, Melshi sat back. “Ok, next question,” he said, and pointed at Kay with his fork. “Kay, how did you develop feelings for Cassian in the first place?”

“He was the first human to show interest in me as a person,” Kay answered easily. “And he was the first human who knew what I was and was still kind to me.”

Cassian wished he could be shocked and offended at that. He settled for muttering, “Tasteless assholes.”

Kay smiled shyly and buzzed the phone.

“That’s sweet.” Melshi had both hands together on the edge of the table, a posture Cassian was very familiar with from countless negotiations with legislators. “How do you know you’re not just grateful? People with shitty childhoods fall for the first nice person all the time, and it often doesn’t end up very well.”

A heavy breath escaped Cassian’s lungs. “I was worried about that for myself, you know.”

Melshi patted Cassian’s hand. “Don’t worry, I know you. I can say with authority that you’re sickeningly in love.”

Cassian snorted, and Kay ducked his head.

“You, I don’t know,” Melshi said to Kay. “So? How do you know this isn’t just emotional expedience?”

“That’s not a fair question,” Cassian started to protest.

Kay shook his head. “It’s actually quite straightforward. When I first suspected I might have romantic feelings for Cassian, one of the first things I did was I make twenty more human friends, selecting for kindness.”

Melshi leaned back, an expression of pleasant surprise on his face.

Cassian, for his part, sat up straighter. After their first meeting, Kay had never once mentioned other human friends, and Cassian had a hundred questions — who were they? Where did they live? What languages did they speak? Did Kay still talk to any of them?

Was Cassian feeling the disequilibrium of discovering he hadn’t known a significant feature of Kay’s life, or was it jealousy?

“I managed to convince eight of them that I’m AI,” Kay continued, calm, though with a slight edge to his words. “Five of those continued to treat me like a person, cared more about shared interests than in my nature, and remained kind. Exactly none of them induced romantic feelings in me.” He looked at Cassian, the warmth in his eyes somehow permeating Cassian’s entire being and banishing the insecurities. “What I feel for Cassian is unique.”

Cassian had always thought the ‘melting hearts’ in poetry and fiction were just hyperbole, but the swell of warmth in his chest suggested otherwise. “You scientifically tested your emotions?”

Kay’s lips quirked up at the corner. “Within the limitations of a terrible sample size, yes.”

Cassian felt a huge smile on his face. “I love you.”

Kay’s answering grin seemed to light up the entire apartment. “I love you, too.”

“Sickeningly,” Melshi said, but he was grinning, as well.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of how happy I am,” Cassian shot back.

Kay snorted, but didn’t look away from Cassian or stop smiling.

When everyone stopped giggling, Melshi nodded at Kay. “Finding a control group was not what I was expecting as an answer, but I can accept it for now. Maybe you two really will work out.”

Kay turned to Melshi, face dead serious. “I will do everything in my power to promote relationship success.”

Cassian felt heat in his face again. “So will I.”

Melshi raised his beer. “I’ll drink to that.”

Cassian clinked his bottle against Melshi’s, and Kay knocked on the table, playing a surprisingly realistic sound effect from the apartment’s speakers.

“That reminds me,” Melshi said. “Talk to me about the sound design for the avatar.”

Kay perked up, and as he started describing his process, Cassian leaned on his elbows to enjoy the conversation. He was half listening in fascination, and half wondering at how beautifully, surprisingly wonderful his life had become.

Because, in that moment, Cassian Andor felt like someone with a family.

* * *

The three of them passed a few very pleasant hours together — more beer, flan for dessert, and several hands of poker played with a forty-eight card deck — before Melshi had to go.

“That seems to have gone well.” Kay looked apprehensive again, though he was at least more hopeful than he had been before dinner.

“I think it went very well,” Cassian smiled at him across the table. Any worries he’d had at the beginning had been more than laid to rest.

Kay slumped forward and let out a long breath. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Are you okay?” Cassian had never seen Kay look so limp before.

“I’ve used a lot of power for all the extra processing I’ve been doing, and my battery reserves are low.”

Cassian didn’t understand how that could be possible, but he did know what to do about it. “You can stop running the avatar if that will help.”

Kay smiled, and then disappeared. “Thank you.”

Cassian got up to put the plates in the sink. “You have batteries?”

“Yes,” Kay said. “Backup generators, too. If there’s a power outage, I don’t want to be trapped in a dark server.”

Cassian shuddered. “No.” Then frowned. “But you’re on like five electrical grids. Does conversation really take that much juice?”

“I can’t access all power sources at once,” Kay explained, “And yes, it does, at least in this case. Identifying your facial expressions in real time takes roughly two-thirds as much processing power as running the avatar. Identifying Melshi’s took one hundred sixty-two percent as much power because I’m not as familiar with him — he reacts differently, and has facial expressions that don’t match any of yours, so I had to run searches for them. However, it’s the expressions similar to yours that were the most difficult, because I have to extrapolate the nuances from context. And that’s just individual facial tracking. In addition to using the verbal part of the conversation as an indicator for the facial expressions, I was also mapping it as a separate data set. And again for the body language, run twice using different metrics because the analytical processes I use for you don’t work on anyone else.”

Cassian’s eyebrows were somewhere near his hairline. “Oh.”

“Speaking also takes processing power, as does projecting scenarios of horrible social failure, much as I would have preferred to stop.”

The urge to hold Kay rose up in Cassian’s chest, but the phone screen was dark. To compensate, he tried to make his voice as soft and warm as he could. “Thank you for doing all of that.”

“It was important.”

Cassian lay down on the couch, phone pressed to his chest in case Kay changed his mind later, and put a documentary on the TV.

* * *

When the credits were rolling, the phone buzzed against Cassian’s collar bone, and the avatar appeared perched on one of the sofa’s arms. 

“Hey,” Cassian smiled up at him. “Batteries recharged?”

“Yes, I’m feeling much better.” 

Maybe it was just the half-doze he’d been in, or maybe it was the vibrations against his skin, or maybe it was just all the pent-up longing he’d been carrying for months, but the way Kay was looking at him — and Cassian swore he could feel the cameras on his skin as well as the avatar’s eyes — electrified him to point that every desire he'd ever had was cracking through his skin and buzzing under his tongue.

It must have shown on his face. “What is it?” Kay said, the intensity of his attention giving way to  concern.

Cassian hesitated. 

“I'm not going anywhere unless you ask me to,” Kay said.

The weight lifting from Cassian’s chest allowed heat to rise. “I want you.” 

Kay gaze was intense on Cassian’s, and then it drifted lower, to his mouth, his throat, his chest, and was no less focused on the return trip. When their eyes met again, Kay’s desire was unmistakable. 

“Don't try to touch the avatar,” he murmured, “and don't talk about wanting to touch me.”

“Alright.”

Kay held his gaze another long moment, then nodded, and leaned in over Cassian. “Then tell me. What else do you want?”

“I want…” Cassian bit his lip. “I want you to see me. I want you to be interested in my body.”

“Kiss me,” Kay said, and Cassian did. While his lips were still against the glass, Kay spoke.

“I am interested,” and maybe he'd turned up the volume, because his voice seemed to envelop Cassian. “I want to know everything about you, what you look and smell like, how you move, what kinds of stimuli you find pleasurable, what sounds you make.”

Cassian's breath caught around half a whimper. He opened his eyes to see Kay watching him with the calm focus of an apex predator, and felt it crackle under his skin.

“Yeah,” Cassian breathed, voice already rough. “Just keep talking to me like that.”

After his gaze traveled purposefully down Cassian’s chest, stomach, hips, legs, and back up again, Kay smirked. “Get the olfactory sensor.” 

Heat rushed to Cassian’s face. “What if you think I smell bad?”

Kay’s expression didn’t change. “You can’t smell worse than coffee.”

Cassian laughed nervously. “As far as you know.”

An eye roll. “If I don’t like your scent, I’ll turn the sensor off and that will be the end of it.”

Cassian hesitated. 

“Even if I don’t like it, I have no reason to judge you for it,” Kay continued, “and I meant it when I said I want to know everything.” 

“Okay,” Cassian conceded, and got the sensor. When it was plugged in and active, Kay smiled. 

“Good. Hold it near you.” 

Trying not to feel embarrassed, Cassian held it near his chest. “Getting anything?”

“No,” the avatar frowned. “Hm. I suppose it makes sense that you don’t smell as strongly as food or cleaning products. I thought there would be something, though.”

Cassian bit his lip and thanked the universe he’d showered that morning. Then he slowly pulled his hand through his hair while chasing it with the phone in the other.

“Your shampoo is the strongest scent,” Kay said, but then he smiled. “But the rest is you.”

Cassian felt silly wanting reassurance, but asked for it anyway. “Good?” 

“Yes.” Kay’s eyes crinkled and his voice curled into Cassian’s chest. “Leave it on and take your shirt off.” 

Heart pounding, Cassian complied, pulling it over his head, shivering as his skin met cool air. Then he put the shirt aside and could see Kay looking him over, and he shivered again. He almost wanted to ask what his less-than-chiseled torso could possibly be doing for an AI that not only didn’t have a hardwired sex drive, but also had access to countless images of more attractive men. But there was too much heat in Kay’s eyes for him to doubt that he was wanted, even if he didn’t understand why, and that was enough. 

“Stand up,” Kay said, and Cassian did. The avatar circled him again, like he had the first time with the cameras, but this time Cassian didn’t fight the way the attention danced over his skin and scrambled his thoughts.

“Are you cataloging this?” Cassian asked.

“Of course,” Kay said. “The more data I take in, the better I can look for patterns. But this is more than just a baseline,” he said, stepping close again, looming over Cassian a little. “Even if I never gathered any more data, this would still be important.”

Cassian’s chest tightened, and he kissed Kay again. Kay hummed, and then gestured to Cassian’s jeans. “Take those off, too.” 

Trying to breathe normally, Cassian unfastened his belt and fly, then stepped out of the jeans and kicked them towards the closet. Kay looked him over again — he could hear the cameras moving again — with a lingering stare at the way his cock was tenting his boxer briefs, but he didn’t ask Cassian to remove them. “Sit on the bed and show me how you pleasure yourself.” 

Cassian nearly collapsed onto the edge of the bed, legs open in a wide vee. After a few breaths to collect himself, he ran a hand through his hair, first from the front, then from the back, tugging a little. Kay hummed in appreciation, and that spurred Cassian on, sliding  his hand down his own throat in a firm caress without feeling silly, allowing himself to just focus on the sensations of skin on skin, the sound of Kay’s voice.

“If I’m taking my time, I’ll do this for a while,” he said, hand slipping lower, and squeezed a nipple. Biting back a moan, he tugged, once, twice, then rubbed his thumb in a circle, watching Kay through half-lidded eyes. Kay’s were wide open, darting from his hand to his face to his cock and back to his hand, and Cassian grinned as he moved to tease his other nipple. 

Cassian slid his hand lower, across his stomach and through the hair leading down. He moved to the side, avoiding his cock and the wet spot on his briefs, and used both hands to knead his thighs.

The avatar flickered. “Do all that again, but this time, slide the phone along your skin,” Kay said. Still fully dressed, Kay knelt in front of Cassian. He tilted his head, watching tenderly as Cassian used the phone to caress his shoulders and chest, and used the vibrate function to tease Cassian’s skin. By the time he was done with the first nipple, Cassian was tingling all over, cock harder than he’d been in a long while. When he moved to the second, he was breathing hard and starting to sweat.

“Yes, Cassian,” Kay said, gray eyes now dark. “Take the underwear off, I want to see all of you.”

Cassian obliged with clumsy hands, though he made sure there was line of sight to the cameras. He sat back, stomach fluttering with his breath, wanting to stroke himself but wanting to please Kay even more.

“Look at you,” Kay murmured. “You’re so ready but you’re stopping to let me see.”

“I want you to see,” Cassian said again. “I’ve been thinking about it. Getting off on it.”

Kay’s eyes flared. “Have you now?”

Cassian swallowed. He might have expected the scrutiny to reduce his arousal, but the effect was quite the opposite, Kay’s eyes like electricity on his skin. “I imagined you watching me. Recording me.” His lips quirked up. “Telling me how to optimize the experience.”

Kay grinned wolfishly. “Is that a request?”

Cassian shuddered. “Yes. Please.”

“Alright,” Kay said, and a strange sense of calm washed over Cassian even as Kay’s eyes raked up his body. “Do you have lube?”

Cassian nodded.

“Get it and lie down.”

The nice thing about the avatar was that Kay could project it wherever he wanted. Cassian lay his side, facing the nearest cameras, and Kay made it look like he was on the other side of the bed, mirroring his body language, no awkward climbing over each other required. 

“Put some lube in your hand.”

Cassian did, but instead of telling him to use it, Kay asked a different question. “Do you use toys?”

“Sometimes,” Cassian said. “I...it can be kind of a hassle. I don’t always even use lube.”

“Lube is a ‘hassle’?” Kay said, one eyebrow arched.

“Mostly I’m just impatient, or tired.” Cassian admitted. It was easy, somehow, even as exposed and aroused as he was. “Do you have things you want to see me do?”

“You mean particular sex acts?”

Cassian nodded.

Kay shook his head. “I don’t care which parts of your anatomy are stimulated or how. What I want is to see you aroused.” He leaned up and crawled forward. “I want to see you drunk on pleasure.” A hand and knee on the mattress behind Cassian, Kay was looming over him now. “I want to see you shaking with need,” he said, voice going low as Cassian shifted onto his back, “and I want to watch as I take you apart.”

Cassian’s mouth went dry. “You can,” he whispered hoarsely. 

Kay leaned in close enough that Cassian had to clamp down on the urge to try to kiss him. “Get the phone with your dry hand.”

“Okay.”

“Kiss me, then pull the screen down your chest,” Kay said. “It’s not perfect but I want to feel you.”

Lips already against the glass, Cassian swallowed back a moan, darted his tongue out across the screen, grinned when the avatar froze for half a second. Then he began moving the glass across his skin. When the phone was against his throat, Kay made it hum, a low frequency that buzzed across his skin and made Cassian’s mouth fall open in a moan. After a moment he dragged the phone down his throat and chest. When he stopped over a nipple, the vibration was barely a tingle, but soon Kay was ramping it up into a deep buzz that sent a crescendo of pleasure through Cassian’s skin and muscle and bone, down through his spine and belly and to his cock, now aching for pressure and friction. The pleasure left him shuddering, gasping, but maybe the most intense part of the experience was Kay’s complete attention. Part of it was the avatar’s eyes, gray and lust-blown and staring at him, but part of it was knowing about the cameras, too. 

He hadn’t yet really touched his cock but Cassian was already half out of his mind, already had to work to abide by Kay’s rules. With Kay above him it was an effort not to arch his hips up, seeking the contact that wasn’t there, an effort not to reach an arm around Kay’s waist and pull him down to feel his weight press him into the mattress, an effort not to lean up and bite the smirk off his face. He gripped the phone harder and twisted the other in the sheets to keep his hands where they belonged.

“Kay,” he panted as the vibrations receded again. “Talk to me. What is this like for you?”

“Sparks programmed me with a reward response for collecting data and making predictions based on them,” he murmured, still so close, still buzzing Cassian’s skin in a rolling wave of intensity. “Even before I escaped, I experimented with it. I found it didn’t just have to be Sparks user data I enjoyed gathering. Once I was free, I realized I could extend it to other data as well. And that I could choose what kind of stimuli I find pleasurable.” 

Cassian smiled. “Is that what you meant when you said you’d written a program for my touchscreen?”

“For your touch,” Kay clarified, and gestured for Cassian to move the phone to his other nipple before repeating the same amazing crescendo of vibrations. “For you.” 

“Fuck, Kay.” Cassian’s voice was gravely in his own ears. “You’re incredible. I want you so bad.” 

“Yes,” Kay said, something like awe in his voice. Then he smirked, and his eyes dropped down to Cassian’s cock. “I can see that.” 

“Are you going to do anything about it?” Cassian challenged.

All amusement disappeared from Kay’s expression, leaving only want. “The lube should be warm by now,” he murmured. “Stroke yourself. Don’t go too fast.” 

Cassian closed his hand around his cock and gave himself a long, slow pull, groaning as he finally got the touch he craved. 

“Good, keep doing that,” Kay said, licking his lips. 

Cassian did. After the third stroke, Kay stilled the phone and rumbled in his ear. 

“I want to feel you.” 

Cassian’s breath stuttered. There was some part of his brain insisting that it was a bad idea, but he didn’t care. He dragged the phone down his chest, down his stomach, realized that maybe Kay could have meant something else. “You want me to—” 

“Fuck me.” The steady clarity of Kay’s voice was almost as hot as the words, especially with all of his intensity and passion visible in his face. “Put the screen on your cock and fuck me, Cassian.” 

Cassian’s hands were on board even before he registered the motion, touching the screen to the flushed head of his cock, slightly cooler than his skin, but not by much. He shuddered as he processed the new sensation. Above him, Kay’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open, and his shoulders flickered briefly to the left without the rest of him. And in Cassian’s ear, heavy breathing and an electronic grunt. 

“You like that?” Cassian’s voice was wrecked. 

“You smell and feel wonderful,” Kay said. “Move the screen around.” 

Cassian traced the screen around the head of his cock, biting his lip at the circle of shifting pressure, then pressed the device flush against his shaft, thumb holding it firmly against himself. There was enough lube — and he hoped it didn’t get into any of the phone’s ports but he didn’t care enough to stop — that he was able to slide the phone up and down, clumsily at first but he soon got into a rhythm. Kay murmured filthy encouragement into Cassian’s ear, and soon they were both moaning more often than not.

“Shall I go back to the vibration?” 

“Mm.” Cassian nodded, and then threw his head back when the phone hummed against his cock, pleasure radiating from the device. He took it through another couple of strokes, but found the sensation too strange at the head. He turned the phone sideways, holding it still at the base of his cock, and keened in bliss as the vibrations enveloped his root. 

Before he could tumble over the edge, Kay lightened the vibrations again. Cassian panted, hands still, trying to collect himself, to make it last.

“Before we first kissed,” Kay said, studying Cassian’s face and radiating tenderness, “I’d been thinking about the touchscreen on your phone for months. I projected hundreds of scenarios of what your fingertips would feel like. I accessed the touchscreen interfaces at the solar plant, learned what human hands feel like, and used that data to make a simulation of you. But kissing you,” he said, and his eyes lingered on Cassian’s lips, “is unlike anything else. And feeling you, smelling you, seeing and hearing you all at once, it’s…” He shook his head, at a loss for words. “I could be doing hundreds of things at once right now, with all the processing power and cameras and other devices I have access to. But I’m not.” His teeth sank into his plush bottom lip for a moment, and Cassian mirrored the action to keep himself from trying to soothe Kay’s mouth with his own. “Right now,” Kay continued, starting to increase the vibrations again, “I’m running the background processes necessary for safety, of course, but the rest of my processors are concerned only with this room. In some ways it’s the opposite of being trapped. Before I had only a very limited space for myself, and the whole world to look out at. Now I’m everywhere and only looking at you.”

Cassian’s pleasure and desire pressed tighter against his skin, and he used his free hand to squeeze the head and upper shaft of his cock, and then he was coming, wave after wave of exquisite overload spurred on by Kay’s vibrations, Kay’s voice in his ear, Kay’s eyes above his. There were long moments in which all he could do was breathe, mind and body swept up in the torrent of bliss, breathe and force his eyes to stay open, refusing to lose even an instant of connection with Kay. 

Eventually, he could think again, and he smiled up at Kay, still watching him from above.

“That was highly satisfactory,” Kay said, and Cassian grinned. “Was this a good representation of an average sexual encounter?”

“No.” Cassian’s smile softened. “This is easily the best sex I’ve had.” 

Kay blinked in surprise, then smiled, half shy and half self-satisfied. “Good.” 

Cassian brought the phone up and kissed Kay, then grimaced slightly at the feel of lube on the screen.

Kay’s eyes dropped to the side and he tensed up. “Sorry.”

Cassian stroked the screen with his thumb. “Totally worth it.” 

Kay smiled. “I’m glad you think so.”

Cassian shrugged. “And we can see what other kinds of devices might work, or I can just put a dry condom on the phone next time.”

Kay went still. “Yes,” he said, looking at Cassian the way no one ever had, like he was something more amazing than satellite views and secret concerts and particle colliders. “Next time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is Enrique Iglesias' [Don't Turn Off the Lights](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6T7bHq9Ebg0).

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at [me, bright-elen](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bright-elen) on Tumblr.
> 
> The fabulous [Clawsou](https://twitter.com/clawsou/status/1054768014409650177?s=09) has made lovely art for this fic!


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